    The Project Gutenberg EBook of History of Indian and Eastern Architecture, by
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    Title: History of Indian and Eastern Architecture

    Author: James Fergusson

    Release Date: January 15, 2020 [EBook #61178]

    Language: English

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Contents. Appendix Index: A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, Y, Z Several minor typographical errors have been corrected. A number of names are spelled several different ways in the original. No attempt has been made to correct or normalize the various spellings. List of Illustrations (In certain versions of this etext [in certain browsers] clicking on the image will bring up a larger version.) (etext transcriber's note)

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{iii}

TEMPLE AT KANTONUGGUR, DINAJEPORE.

# HISTORY
OF
INDIAN AND EASTERN ARCHITECTURE;

By JAMES FERGUSSON, D.C.L., F.R.S, M.R.A.S.,
FELLOW OF THE ROYAL INSTITUTE OF BRITISH ARCHITECTS,
MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY OF DILETTANTI,
ETC. ETC. ETC.
Tope at Manikyala.
FORMING THE THIRD VOLUME OF THE NEW EDITION OF THE
‘HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE.’
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1891.
The right of Translation is reserved.
{iv}

## WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE ROCK-CUT TEMPLES OF INDIA. 18 Plates in Tinted Lithography, folio: with an 8vo. volume of Text, Plans, &c. 2l. 7s. 6d. London, Weale, 1845.

PICTURESQUE ILLUSTRATIONS OF ANCIENT ARCHITECTURE IN HINDOSTAN. 24 Plates in Coloured Lithography, with Plans, Woodcuts, and explanatory Text, &c. 4l. 4s. London, Hogarth, 1847.

AN HISTORICAL INQUIRY INTO THE TRUE PRINCIPLES OF BEAUTY IN ART, more especially with reference to Architecture. Royal 8vo. 31s. 6d. London, Longmans, 1849.

THE PALACES OF NINEVEH AND PERSEPOLIS RESTORED: An Essay on Ancient Assyrian and Persian Architecture. 8vo. 16s. London, Murray, 1851.

THE ILLUSTRATED HANDBOOK OF ARCHITECTURE. Being a Concise and Popular Account of the Different Styles prevailing in all Ages and all Countries. With 850 Illustrations. 8vo. 26s. London, Murray, 1859.

RUDE STONE MONUMENTS IN ALL COUNTRIES, THEIR AGE AND USES. With 234 Illustrations. 8vo. London, Murray, 1872.

TREE AND SERPENT WORSHIP, OR ILLUSTRATIONS OF MYTHOLOGY AND ART IN INDIA, in the 1st and 4th Centuries after Christ, 100 Plates and 31 Woodcuts. 4to. London, India Office; and W. H. Allen & Co. 2nd Edition, 1873.

THE MAUSOLEUM AT HALICARNASSUS RESTORED, IN CONFORMITY WITH THE REMAINS RECENTLY DISCOVERED. Plates 4to. 7s. 6d. London, Murray, 1862.

AN ESSAY ON THE ANCIENT TOPOGRAPHY OF JERUSALEM; with restored Plans of the Temple, and with Plans, Sections, and Details of the Church built by Constantine the Great over the Holy Sepulchre, now known as the Mosque of Omar. 16s. Weale, 1847.

THE HOLY SEPULCHRE AND THE TEMPLE AT JERUSALEM. Being the Substance of Two Lectures delivered in the Royal Institution, Albemarle Street, on the 21st February, 1862, and 3rd March, 1865. Woodcuts. 8vo. 7s. 6d. London, Murray, 1865.

AN ESSAY ON A PROPOSED NEW SYSTEM OF FORTIFICATION, with Hints for its Application to our National Defences. 12s. 6d. London, Weale, 1849.

THE PERIL OF PORTSMOUTH. FRENCH FLEETS AND ENGLISH FORTS. Plan. 8vo. 3s. London, Murray, 1853.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE BRITISH MUSEUM, NATIONAL GALLERY, and NATIONAL RECORD OFFICE; with Suggestions for their Improvement. 8vo. London, Weale, 1859.

LONDON. WM. CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.{v}

## PREFACE.

During the nine years that have elapsed since I last wrote on this subject,[1] very considerable progress has been made in the elucidation of many of the problems that still perplex the student of the History of Indian Architecture. The publication of the five volumes of General Cunningham’s ‘Archæological Reports’ has thrown new light on many obscure points, but generally from an archæological rather than from an architectural point of view; and Mr. Burgess’s researches among the western caves and the structural temples of the Bombay presidency have added greatly not only to our stores of information, but to the precision of our knowledge regarding them.

For the purpose of such a work as this, however, photography has probably done more than anything that has been written. There are now very few buildings in India—of any importance at least—which have not been photographed with more or less completeness; and for purposes of comparison such collections of photographs as are now available are simply invaluable. For detecting similarities, or distinguishing differences between specimens situated at distances from one another, photographs are almost equal to actual personal inspection, and, when sufficiently numerous, afford a picture of Indian art of the utmost importance to anyone attempting to describe it.

These new aids, added to our previous stock of knowledge, are {vi}probably sufficient to justify us in treating the architecture of India Proper in the quasi-exhaustive manner in which it is attempted, in the first 600 pages of this work. Its description might, of course, be easily extended even beyond these limits, but without plans and more accurate architectural details than we at present possess, any such additions would practically contribute very little that was valuable to the information the work already contains.

The case is different when we turn to Further India. Instead of only 150 pages and 50 illustrations, both these figures ought at least to be doubled to bring that branch of the subject up to the same stage of completeness as that describing the architecture of India Proper. For this, however, the materials do not at present exist. Of Japan we know almost nothing except from photographs, without plans, dimensions, or dates; and, except as regards Pekin and the Treaty Ports, we know almost as little of China. We know a great deal about one or two buildings in Cambodia and Java, but our information regarding all the rest is so fragmentary and incomplete, that it is hardly available for the purposes of a general history, and the same may be said of Burmah and Siam. Ten years hence this deficiency may be supplied, and it may then be possible to bring the whole into harmony. At present a slight sketch indicating the relative position of each, and their relation to the styles of India Proper, is all that can well be accomplished.

Although appearing as the third volume of the second edition of the ‘General History of Architecture,’ the present may be considered as an independent and original work. In the last edition the Indian chapters extended only to about 300 pages, with 200 illustrations,[2] and though most of the woodcuts reappear in the present volume, more than half the original text has been cancelled, and consequently at least 600 pages of the present work are original matter, and 200 illustrations—and these by far the most important—have been added. These, with the new chronological and topographical details, present the subject to the English reader in a more compact and complete form than has been attempted in any work on Indian architecture hitherto published. It does not, as I feel only too keenly, contain all the information that could be desired, but I am afraid it contains{vii} nearly all that the materials at present available will admit of being utilised, in a general history of the style.

When I published my first work on Indian architecture thirty years ago, I was reproached for making dogmatic assertions, and propounding theories which I did not even attempt to sustain. The defect was, I am afraid, inevitable. My conclusions were based upon the examination of the actual buildings throughout the three Presidencies of India and in China during ten years’ residence in the East, and to have placed before the world the multitudinous details which were the ground of my generalisations, would have required an additional amount of description and engravings which was not warranted by the interest felt in the subject at that time. The numerous engravings in the present volume, the extended letterpress, and the references to works of later labourers in the wide domain of Indian architecture, will greatly diminish, but cannot entirely remove, the old objection. No man can direct his mind for forty years to the earnest investigation of any department of knowledge, and not become acquainted with a host of particulars, and acquire a species of insight which neither time, nor space, nor perhaps the resources of language will permit him to reproduce in their fulness. I possess, to give a single instance, more than 3000 photographs of Indian buildings, with which constant use has made me as familiar as with any other object that is perpetually before my eyes, and to recapitulate all the information they convey to long-continued scrutiny, would be an endless, if not indeed an impossible undertaking. The necessities of the case demand that broad results should often be given when the evidence for the statements must be merely indicated or greatly abridged, and if the conclusions sometimes go beyond the appended proofs, I can only ask my readers to believe that the assertions are not speculative fancies, but deductions from facts. My endeavour from the first has been to present a distinct view of the general principles which have governed the historical development of Indian architecture, and my hope is that those who pursue the subject beyond the pages of the present work, will find that the principles I have enunciated will reduce to order the multifarious details, and that the details in turn will confirm the principles. Though the vast amount of fresh knowledge which has gone on accumulating since I commenced my{viii} investigations has enabled me to correct, modify, and enlarge my views, yet the classification I adopted, and the historical sequences I pointed out thirty years since, have in their essential outlines been confirmed, and will continue, I trust, to stand good. Many subsidiary questions remain unsettled, but my impression is, that not a few of the discordant opinions that may be observed, arise principally from the different courses which inquirers have pursued in their investigations. Some men of great eminence and learning, more conversant with books than buildings, have naturally drawn their knowledge and inferences from written authorities, none of which are contemporaneous with the events they relate, and all of which have been avowedly altered and falsified in later times. My authorities, on the contrary, have been mainly the imperishable records in the rocks, or on sculptures and carvings, which necessarily represented at the time the faith and feelings of those who executed them, and which retain their original impress to this day. In such a country as India, the chisels of her sculptors are, so far as I can judge, immeasurably more to be trusted than the pens of her authors. These secondary points, however, may well await the solution which time and further study will doubtless supply. In the meanwhile, I shall have realised a long-cherished dream if I have succeeded in popularising the subject by rendering its principles generally intelligible, and can thus give an impulse to its study, and assist in establishing Indian architecture on a stable basis, so that it may take its true position among the other great styles which have ennobled the arts of mankind.

The publication of this volume completes the history of the ‘Architecture in all Countries, from the earliest times to the present day, in four volumes,’ and there it must at present rest. As originally projected, it was intended to have added a fifth volume on ‘Rude Stone Monuments,’ which is still wanted to make the series quite complete; but, as explained in the preface to my work bearing that title, the subject was not, when it was written, ripe for a historical treatment, and the materials collected were consequently used in an argumentative essay. Since that work was published, in 1872, no serious examination of its arguments has been undertaken by any competent authority, while every new fact that has come to light{ix}—especially in India—has served to confirm me more and more in the correctness of the principles I then tried to establish.[3] Unless, however, the matter is taken up seriously, and re-examined by those who, from their position, have the ear of the public in these matters, no such progress will be made as would justify the publication of a second work on the same subject. I consequently see no chance of my ever having an opportunity of taking up the subject again, so as to be able to describe its objects in a more consecutive or more exhaustive manner than was done in the work just alluded to.

Buddha preaching.
(From a fresco painting at Ajunta.)

{x}

## NOTE.

One of the great difficulties that meets every one attempting to write on Indian subjects at the present day is to know how to spell Indian proper names. The Gilchristian mode of using double vowels, which was fashionable fifty years ago, has now been entirely done away with, as contrary to the spirit of Indian orthography, though it certainly is the mode which enables the ordinary Englishman to pronounce Indian names with the greatest readiness and certainty. On the other hand, an attempt is now being made to form out of the ordinary English alphabet a more extended one, by accents over the vowels, and dots under the consonants, and other devices, so that every letter of the Devanagari or Arabic alphabets shall have an exact equivalent in this one.

In attempting to print Sanscrit or Persian books in Roman characters, such a system is indispensable, but if used for printing Indian names in English books, intended principally for the use of Englishmen, it seems to me to add not only immensely to the repulsiveness of the subject, but to lead to the most ludicrous mistakes. According to this alphabet for instance, ḍ with dot under it represents a consonant we pronounce as r; but as not one educated Englishman in 10,000 is aware of this fact, he reads such words as Kattiwaḍ, Chîtoḍ, and Himaḍpanti as if spelt literally with a d, though they are pronounced Kattiwar, Chittore, and Himarpanti, and are so written in all books hitherto published, and the two first are so spelt in all maps hitherto engraved. A hundred years hence, when Sanscrit and Indian alphabets are taught in all schools in England, it may be otherwise, but in the present state of knowledge on the subject some simpler plan seems more expedient.

In the following pages I have consequently used the Jonesian system, as nearly as may be, as it was used by Prinsep, or the late Professor Wilson, but avoiding as far as possible all accents, except over vowels where they were necessary for the pronunciation. Over such words as Nâga, Râjâ, or Hindû—as in Tree and Serpent worship—I have omitted accents altogether as wholly unnecessary for the pronunciation. An accent, however, seems indispensable over the â in Lât, to prevent it being read as Lath in English, as I have heard done, or over the î in such words as Hullabîd, to prevent its being read as short bid in English.

Names of known places I have in all instances tried to leave as they are usually spelt, and are found on maps. I have, for instance, left Oudeypore, the capital of the Rajput state, spelt as Tod and others always spelt it, but, to prevent the two places being confounded, have taken the liberty of spelling the name of a small unknown village, where there is a temple, Udaipur—though I believe the names are the same. I have tried, in short, to accommodate my spelling as nearly as possible to the present state of knowledge or ignorance of the English public, without much reference to scientific precision, as I feel sure that by this means the nomenclature may become much less repulsive than it too generally must be to the ordinary English student of Indian history and art.{xi}

## CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION | Page 3
BOOK I. BUDDHIST ARCHITECTURE.
Chap. |  | Page
I. | Introduction and Classification | 47
II. | Stambhas or Lâts | 52
III. | Stupas—Bhilsa Topes—Topes at Sarnath and in Behar—Amravati Tope—Gandhara Topes—Jelalabad Topes—Manikyala Tope | 57
IV. | Rails—Rails at Bharhut, Muttra Sanchi, and Amravati | 84
V. | Chaitya Halls—Behar Caves—Western Chaitya Halls, &c. | 105
VI. | Viharas or Monasteries—Structural Viharas—Bengal and Western Vihara Caves—Nassick, Ajunta, Bagh, Dhumnar, Kholvi, and Ellora Viharas—Circular Cave at Junir | 133
VII. | Gandhara Monasteries—Monasteries at Jamalgiri, Takht-i-Bahi, and Shah Dehri | 169
VIII. | Ceylon—Introductory—Anuradhapura—Pollonarua | 185
BOOK II. JAINA ARCHITECTURE.
I. | Introductory | 207
II. | Construction—Arches—Domes—Plans—Sikras | 210
III. | Northern Jaina Style—Palitana—Girnar—Mount Abu—Parisnath—Gualior—Khajurâho | 226
IV. | Modern Jaina Style—Jaina Temple, Delhi—Jaina Caves—Converted Mosques | 255
V. | Jaina Style in Southern India—Bettus—Bastis | 265
BOOK III. ARCHITECTURE IN THE HIMALAYAS.
I. | Kashmir—Temples—Marttand—Avantipore—Bhaniyar | 279
II. | Nepal—Stupas or Chaityas—Wooden Temples—Thibet—Temples at Kangra{xii} | 298
BOOK IV. DRAVIDIAN STYLE.
I. | Introductory | 319
II. | Dravidian Rock-Cut Temples—Mahavellipore—Kylas, Ellora | 326
III. | Dravidian Temples—Tanjore—Tiruvalur—Seringham—Chillambaram—Ramisseram—Mádura—Tinnevelly—Combaconum—Conjeveram—Vellore and Peroor—Vijayanagar | 340
IV. | Civil Architecture—Palaces at Mádura and Tanjore—Garden Pavilion at Vijayanagar | 380
BOOK V. CHALUKYAN STYLE.
I. | Introductory—Temple at Buchropully—Kirti Stambha at Worangul—Temples at Somnathpûr and Baillûr—The Kait Iswara at Hullabîd—Temple at Hullabîd | 386
BOOK VI. NORTHERN OR INDO-ARYAN STYLE.
I. | Introductory—Dravidian and Indo-Aryan Temples at Badami—Modern Temple at Benares | 406
II. | Orissa—History—Temples at Bhuvaneswar, Kanaruc, Puri, Jajepur, and Cuttack | 414
III. | Western India—Dharwar—Brahmanical Rock-cut Temples | 437
IV. | Central and Northern India—Temples at Gualior, Khajurâho, Udaipur, Benares, Bindrabun, Kantonuggur, Amritsur | 448
V. | Civil Architecture—Cenotaphs—Palaces at Gualior, Ambêr, Deeg—Ghâts—Reservoirs—Dams | 470
BOOK VII. INDIAN SARACENIC ARCHITECTURE.
I. | Introductory | 489
II. | Ghazni—Tomb of Mahmúd—Gates of Somnath—Minars on the Plain | 494
III. | Pathan Style—Mosque at Old Delhi—Kutub Minar—Tomb of Ala-ud-dîn—Pathan Tombs—Ornamentation of Pathan Tombs | 498
IV. | Jaunpore—Mosques of Jumma Musjid and Lall Durwaza | 520
V. | Gujerat—Jumma Musjid and other Mosques at Ahmedabad—Tombs and Mosques at Sirkej and Butwa—Buildings in the Provinces | 526
VI. | Malwa—The Great Mosque at Mandu | 540
VII. | Bengal—Kudam ul Roussoul Mosque, Gaur—Adinah Mosque, Maldah{xiii} | 545
VIII. | Kalburgah—The Mosque at Kalburgah | 552
IX. | Bijapur—The Jumma Musjid—Tombs of Ibrahim and Mahmúd—The Audience Hall—Tomb of Nawab Amir Khan, near Tatta | 557
X. | Mogul Architecture—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 | 569
XI. | Wooden Architecture—Mosque of Shah Hamadan, Srinugger | 608
BOOK VIII. FURTHER INDIA.
I. | Burmah—Introductory—Ruins of Thatún, Prome, and Pagan—Circular Dagobas—Monasteries | 611
II. | Siam—Pagodas at Ayuthia and Bangkok—Hall of Audience at Bangkok—General Remarks | 631
III. | Java—History—Boro Buddor—Temples at Mendoet and Brambanam—Tree and Serpent Temples—Temples at Djeing and Suku | 637
IV. | Cambodia—Introductory—Temples of Nakhon Wat, Ongcor Thom, Paten ta Phrohm, &c. | 663
BOOK IX. CHINA.
I. | Introductory | 685
II. | Pagodas—Temple of the Great Dragon—Buddhist Temples—Taas—Tombs—Pailoos—Domestic Architecture | 689
APPENDIX | 711
INDEX: A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, Y, Z | 749
DIRECTIONS TO BINDER.
Map of Buddhist and Jaina Localities | To face 47
Map of Indo-Aryan, Chalukyan, and Dravidian Localities | To face 279

{xiv}

## LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

No. |  | Page
1. | Naga people worshipping the Trisul emblem of Buddha, on a fiery pillar | 46
2. | Sri seated on a Lotus, with two elephants pouring water over her | 51
3. | Lât at Allahabad | 53
4. | Assyrian honeysuckle ornament from capital of Lât, at Allahabad | 53
5. | Capital of Sankissa | 54
6. | Capital of Lât in Tirhoot | 54
7. | Surkh Minar, Cabul | 56
8. | Relic Casket of Moggalana | 62
9. | Relic Casket of Sariputra | 62
10. | View of the Great Tope at Sanchi | 63
11. | Plan of Great Tope at Sanchi | 63
12. | Section of Great Tope at Sanchi | 63
13. | Tee cut in the rock on a Dagoba at Ajunta | 64
14. | Tope at Sarnath, near Benares | 66
15. | Panel on the Tope at Sarnath | 68
16. | Temple at Buddh Gaya with Bo-tree | 70
17. | Representation of a Tope from the Rail at Amravati | 72
18. | Tope at Bimeran | 78
19. | Tope, Sultanpore | 78
20. | Relic Casket from Tope at Manikyala | 80
21. | View of Manikyala Tope | 81
22. | Restored Elevation of the Tope at Manikyala | 81
23. | Elevation and Section of portion of Basement of Tope at Manikyala | 82
24. | Relic Casket, Manikyala | 82
25. | Tree Worship: Buddh Gaya Rail | 86
26. | Relic Casket: Buddh Gaya Rail | 86
27. | Portion of Rail at Bharhut, as first uncovered | 88
28. | Tree and Serpent Worship at Bharhut | 90
29. | Rail at Sanchi | 92
30. | Rail, No. 2 Tope, Sanchi | 93
31. | Representation of Rail | 93
32. | Rail in Gautamiputra Cave, Nassick | 94
33. | * Northern Gateway of Tope at Sanchi | 96
34. | Bas-relief on left-hand Pillar, Northern Gateway | 97
35. | Ornament on right-hand Pillar, Northern Gateway | 97
36. | External Elevation of Great Rail at Amravati | 100
37. | Angle Pillar at Amravati | 101
38. | Slab from Inner Rail, Amravati | 101
39. | Dagoba (from a Slab), Amravati | 102
40. | Trisul Emblem | 104
41. | Plan of Chaitya Hall, Sanchi | 105
42. | Nigope Cave, Sat Ghurba group | 108
43. | Façade of Lomas Rishi Cave | 109
44. | Lomas Rishi Cave | 109
45. | Chaitya Cave, Bhaja | 110
46. | Façade of the Cave at Bhaja | 111
47. | Front of a Chaitya Hall | 111
48. | Trisul. Shield. Chakra. Trisul | 112
49. | Plan of Cave at Bedsa | 113
50. | Capital of Pillar in front of Cave at Bedsa | 114
51. | View on Verandah of Cave at Bedsa | 114
52. | Chaitya Cave at Nassick | 115
53. | Section of Cave at Karli | 117
54. | Plan of Cave at Karli | 117
55. | View of Cave at Karli | 118
56. | View of Interior of Cave at Karli | 120
57. | Interior of Chaitya Cave No. 10 at Ajunta | 123
58. | Cross-section of Cave No. 10 at Ajunta | 123
59. | Chaitya No. 19 at Ajunta | 124
60. | View of Façade Chaitya Cave No. 19 at Ajunta | 125
61. | Rock-cut Dagoba at Ajunta | 126
62. | Small Model found in the Tope at Sultanpore | 126
63. | Façade of the Viswakarma Cave at Ellora | 128
64. | Rail in front of Great Cave, Kenheri | 130
65. | Cave at Dhumnar | 131
66. | Great Rath at Mahavellipore | 134
{xv}67. | Diagram Explanatory of the Arrangement of a Buddhist Vihara of Four Storeys in Height | 134
68-69. | Square and oblong Cells from a Bas-relief at Bharhut | 135
70. | Ganesa Cave | 140
71. | Pillar in Ganesa Cave, Cuttack | 140
72. | Upper Storey, Rani Gumpha | 140
73. | Tiger Cave, Cuttack | 143
74. | Cave No. 11 at Ajunta | 145
75. | Cave No. 2 at Ajunta | 146
76. | Caveat Bagh | 146
77. | Durbar Cave, Salsette | 147
78. | Nahapana Vihara, Nassick | 149
79. | Pillar in Nahapana Cave, Nassick | 150
80. | Pillar in Gautamiputra Cave, Nassick | 150
81. | Yadnya Sri Cave, Nassick | 151
82. | Pillar in Yadnya Sri Cave | 152
83. | Plan of Cave No. 16 at Ajunta | 154
84. | View of Interior of Vihara No. 16 at Ajunta | 154
85. | View in Cave No. 17 at Ajunta | 155
86. | Pillar in Vihara No. 17 at Ajunta | 156
87. | Great Vihara at Bagh | 160
88. | Plan of Dehrwarra, Ellora | 163
89. | Circular Cave, Junir | 167
90. | Section of Circular Cave, Junir | 167
91. | Round Temple and part of Palace from a bas-relief at Bharhut | 168
92. | Plan of Monastery at Jamalgiri | 171
93. | Plan of Monastery at Takht-i-Bahi | 171
94. | Corinthian Capital from Jamalgiri | 173
95. | Corinthian Capital from Jamalgiri | 173
96. | Plan of Ionic Monastery, Shah Dehri | 176
97. | Ionic Pillar, Shah Dehri | 176
98. | Elevation of front of Staircase, Ruanwelli Dagoba | 190
99. | View of Frontispiece of Stairs, Ruanwelli Dagoba | 191
100. | Stelæ at the end of Stairs, Abhayagiri Dagoba | 192
101. | Thuparamaya Tope | 192
102. | Lankaramaya Dagoba, A.D. 221 | 194
103. | Pavilion with Steps at Anuradhapura | 197
104. | Moon Stone at Foot of Steps leading to the Platform of the Bo-tree, Anuradhapura | 197
105. | The Jayta Wana Rama—Ruins of Pollonarua | 201
106. | Sat Mehal Prasada | 202
107. | Round House, called Watté Dajê in Pollonarua | 203
108. | View of City Gateway, Bijanagur | 211
109. | Gateway, Jinjûwarra | 211
110. | Radiating Arch | 213
111. | Horizontal Arch | 213
112. | Diagram of Roofing | 213
113-114. | Diagrams of Roofing | 214
115. | Diagram of Roofing | 214
116. | Diagram of Indian construction | 215
117. | Diagram of the arrangement of the pillars of a Jaina Dome | 216
118. | Diagram Plan of Jaina Porch | 216
119. | Diagram of Jaina Porch | 217
120. | Old Temple at Aiwulli | 219
121. | Temple at Aiwulli | 220
122. | Plan of Temple at Pittadkul | 221
123. | Restored Elevation of the Black Pagoda at Kanaruc | 222
124. | Diagram Plan and Section of the Black Pagoda at Kanaruc | 223
125. | The Sacred Hill of Sutrunjya, near Palitana | 227
126. | Temple of Neminatha, Girnar | 230
127. | Plan of Temple of Tejpala and Vastupala | 232
128. | Plan of Temple at Somnath | 232
129. | Temple of Vimala Sah, Mount Abu | 235
130. | Temple of Vimala Sah, Mount Abu | 236
131. | Pendant in Dome of Vimala Sah Temple at Abu | 237
132. | Pillars at Chandravati | 238
133. | Plan of Temple at Sadri | 240
134. | View in the Temple at Sadri | 241
135. | External View of the Temple at Sadri | 242
136. | * Jaina Temple at Gualior | 244
137. | Temple of Parswanatha at Khajurâho | 245
138. | Chaonsat Jogini, Khajurâho | 246
139. | The Ganthai, Khajurâho | 248
140. | * Temple at Gyraspore | 249
141. | Porch of Jaina Temple at Amwah, near Ajunta | 251
142. | Jaina Tower of Sri Allat Chittore | 252
143. | Tower of Victory erected by Khumbo Rana at Chittore | 253
144. | * View of Jaina Temples Sonaghur, in Bundelcund | 256
145. | View of the Temple of Shet Huttising at Ahmedabad | 257
146. | Upper part of Porch of Jaina Temple at Delhi | 259
147. | Entrance to the Indra Subha Cave at Ellora | 262
148. | Colossal Statue at Yannûr | 268
149. | Jaina Basti at Sravana Belgula | 270
150. | Jaina Temple at Moodbidri | 271
151. | Jaina Temple at Moodbidri | 271
152. | Pillar in Temple, Moodbidri | 273
153. | Pavilion at Gurusankerry | 274
{xvi}154. | Tombs of Priests, Moodbidri | 275
155. | Stambha at Gurusankerry | 276
156. | Tomb of Zein-ul-ab-ud-din. Elevation of Arches | 281
157. | Takt-i-Suleiman. Elevation of Arches | 282
158. | Model of Temple in Kashmir | 283
159. | Pillar at Srinagar | 284
160. | Temple of Marttand | 286
161. | View of Temple at Marttand | 287
162. | Central Cell of Court at Marttand | 288
163. | Niche with Naga Figure at Marttand | 290
164. | Soffit of Arch at Marttand | 291
165. | Pillar at Avantipore | 292
166. | View in Court of Temple at Bhaniyar | 293
167. | Temple at Pandrethan | 294
168. | Temple at Payech | 295
169. | Temple at Mûlot in the Salt Range | 296
170. | Temple of Swayambunath, Nepal | 302
171. | Nepalese Kosthakar | 303
172. | Devi Bhowani Temple, Bhatgaon | 304
173. | Temple of Mahadeo and Krishna, Patan | 306
174. | Doorway of Durbar, Bhatgaon | 307
175. | Monoliths at Dimapur | 309
176. | Doorway of the Temple at Tassiding | 313
177. | Porch of Temple at Pemiongchi | 314
178. | Temples at Kiragrama, near Kote Kangra | 316
179. | Pillar at Erun of the Gupta age | 317
180. | Capital of Half Column from a Temple in Orissa | 317
181. | Raths, Mahavellipore | 328
182. | Arjuna’s Rath Mahavellipore | 330
183. | Perumal Pagoda, Mádura | 331
184. | Entrance to a Hindu Temple, Colombo | 332
185. | Tiger Cave at Saluvan Kuppan | 333
186. | Kylas at Ellora | 334
187. | Kylas, Ellora | 335
188. | Deepdan in Dharwar | 337
189. | Plan of Great Temple at Purudkul | 338
190. | Diagram Plan of Tanjore Pagoda | 343
191. | View of the Great Pagoda at Tanjore | 344
192. | * Temple of Soubramanya, Tanjore | 345
193. | Inner Temple at Tiruvalur | 346
194. | Temple at Tiruvalur | 346
195. | * View of the eastern half of the Great Temple at Seringham | 349
196. | Plan of Temple of Chillambaram | 351
197. | View of Porch at Chillambaram | 353
198. | Section of Porch of Temple at Chillambaram | 353
199. | * Panned Temple or Pagoda at Chillambaram | 354
200. | Plan of Great Temple at Ramisseram | 356
201. | Central Corridor, Ramisseram | 358
202. | Plan of Tirumulla Nayak’s Choultrie | 361
203. | Pillar in Tirumulla Nayak’s Choultrie | 361
204. | * View in Tirumulla Nayak’s Choultrie, Mádura | 363
205. | Half-plan of Temple at Tinnevelly | 366
206. | * Gopura at Combaconum | 368
207. | Portico of Temple at Vellore | 371
208. | Compound Pillar at Vellore | 372
209. | Compound Pillar at Peroor | 372
210. | View of Porch of Temple of Vitoba at Vijayanagar | 375
211. | * Entrance through Gopura at Tarputry | 376
212. | * Portion of Gopura at Tarputry | 377
213. | Hall in Palace, Mádura | 382
214. | Court in Palace, Tanjore | 383
215. | Garden Pavilion at Vijayanagar | 384
216. | Temple at Buchropully | 389
217. | Doorway of Great Temple at Hammoncondah | 390
218. | Kirti Stambha at Worangul | 392
219. | Temple at Somnathpûr | 394
220. | Plan of Great Temple at Baillûr | 395
221. | View of part of Porch at Baillûr | 396
222. | Pavilion at Baillûr | 397
223. | Kait Iswara, Hullabîd | 398
224. | Plan of Temple at Hullabîd | 399
225. | Restored view of Temple at Hullabîd | 400
226. | Central Pavilion Hullabîd, East Front | 402
227. | Dravidian and Indo-Aryan Temples at Badami | 411
228. | Modern Temple at Benares | 412
229. | Diagram Plan of Hindu Temple | 412
230. | Temple of Parasurameswara | 418
231. | Temple of Mukteswara | 419
232. | Plan of Great Temple at Bhuvaneswar | 421
233. | View of Great Temple, Bhuvaneswar | 422
234. | Lower part of Great Tower at Bhuvaneswar | 423
235. | Plan of Raj Rani Temple | 424
236. | Doorway in Raj Rani Temple | 425
237. | Plan of Temple of Juganât at Puri | 430
238. | View of Tower of Temple, of Juganât | 431
239. | Hindu Pillar in Jajepur | 433
240. | Hindu Bridge at Cuttack | 434
{xvii}241. | View of Temple of Papanatha at Pittadkul | 438
242. | Pillar in Kylas, Ellora | 443
243. | Plan of Cave No. 3, Badami | 444
244. | Section of Cave No. 3, Badami | 444
245. | Dhumnar Lena Cave at Ellora | 445
246. | Rock-cut Temple at Dhumnar | 446
247. | Saiva Temple near Poonah | 446
248. | Temple at Chandravati | 449
249. | Temple at Barrolli | 450
250. | Plan of Temple at Barrolli | 450
251. | Pillar in Barrolli | 451
252. | * Teli ka Mandir, Gualior | 453
253. | * Kandarya Mahadeo, Khajurâho | 455
254. | Plan of Kandarya Mahadeo, Khajurâho | 456
255. | Temple at Udaipur | 457
256. | Diagram explanatory of the Plan of Meera Baie’s Temple, Chittore | 458
257. | * Temple of Vriji, Chittore | 459
258. | Temple of Vishveshwar | 460
259. | Temple of Scindiah’s Mother, Gualior | 462
260. | Plan of Temple at Bindrabun | 463
261. | View of Temple at Bindrabun | 464
262. | Balcony in Temple at Bindrabun | 465
263. | Temple at Kantonuggur | 467
264. | * The Golden Temple in the Holy Tank at Amritsur | 468
265. | * Cenotaph of Singram Sing at Oudeypore | 471
266. | * Cenotaph in Maha Sâti at Oudeypore | 472
267. | * Tomb of Rajah Baktawar at Ulwar | 474
268. | * Palace at Duttiah | 477
269. | * Palace at Ourtcha, Bundelcund | 478
270. | Balcony at the Observatory, Benares | 481
271. | Hall at Deeg | 482
272. | View from the Central Pavilion in the Palace at Deeg | 483
273. | Ghoosla Ghât, Benares | 485
274. | Bund of Lake Rajsamundra | 487
275. | Minar at Ghazni | 495
276. | Ornaments from the Tomb of Mahmúd at Ghazni | 496
277. | Plan of Ruins in Old Delhi | 501
278. | Section of part of East Colonnade at the Kutub, Old Delhi | 503
279. | Central Range of Arches at the Kutub | 504
280. | Minar of Kutub | 505
281. | Iron Pillar at Kutub | 507
282. | Interior of a Tomb at Old Delhi | 509
283. | Mosque at Ajmir | 511
284. | Great Arch in Mosque at Ajmir | 512
285. | Pathan Tomb at Shepree, near Gualior | 515
286. | Tomb at Old Delhi | 516
287. | Tomb of Shere Shah at Sasseram | 516
288. | Tomb of Shere Shah | 517
289. | Pendentive from Mosque at Old Delhi | 519
290. | Plan of Western Half of Courtyard of Jumma Musjid, Jaunpore | 522
291. | View of lateral Gateway of Jumma Musjid, Jaunpore | 522
292. | Lall Durwaza Mosque, Jaunpore | 523
293. | Plan of Jumma Musjid, Ahmedabad | 528
294. | Elevation of the Jumma Musjid | 528
295. | Plan of the Queen’s Mosque, Mirzapore | 529
296. | Elevation of the Queen’s Mosque, Mirzapore | 529
297. | Section of Diagram explanatory of the Mosques at Ahmedabad | 529
298. | Plan of Tombs and Mosque at Sirkej | 531
299. | Pavilion in front of tomb at Sirkej | 532
300. | Mosque at Mooháfiz Khan | 532
301. | Window in Bhudder at Ahmedabad | 533
302. | Tomb of Meer Abu Touráb | 534
303. | Plan and Elevation of Tomb of Syad Osmán | 534
304. | Tomb of Kutub-ul-Alum, Butwa | 536
305. | Plans of Tombs of Kutub-ul-Alum and his Son, Butwa | 536
306. | Plan of Tomb of Mahmúd Begurra near Kaira | 538
307. | Tomb of Mahmúd Begurra, near Kaira | 538
308. | Plan of Mosque at Mandu | 542
309. | Courtyard of Great Mosque at Mandu | 543
310. | Modern curved form of Roof | 546
311. | Kudam ul Roussoul Mosque, Gaur | 548
312. | Plan of Adinah Mosque, Maldah | 549
313. | Minar at Gaur | 550
314. | Mosque at Kalburgah | 554
315. | Half-elevation, half-section, of the Mosque at Kalburgah | 555
316. | View of the Mosque at Kalburgah | 555
317. | Plan of Jumma Musjid, Bijapur | 559
318. | Plan and Section of smaller Domes of Jumma Musjid | 560
319. | Section on the line A B through the Great Dome of the Jumma Musjid | 560
320. | Tomb of Rozah of Ibrahim | 561
321. | Plan of Tomb of Mahmúd at Bijapur | 562
{xviii}322. | Pendentives of the Tomb of Mahmúd, looking upwards | 563
323. | Section of Tomb of Mahmúd at Bijapur | 564
324. | Diagram illustrative of Domical Construction | 565
325. | Audience Hall, Bijapur | 566
326. | Tomb of Nawab Amir Khan, near Tatta, A.D. 1640 | 568
327. | Plan of Tomb of Mohammad Ghaus, Gualior | 576
328. | Tomb of Mohammad Ghaus, Gualior | 577
329. | Carved Pillars in the Sultana’s Kiosk, Futtehpore Sikri | 579
330. | Mosque at Futtehpore Sikri | 580
331. | Southern Gateway of Mosque, Futtehpore Sikri | 581
332. | Hall in Palace at Allahabad | 583
333. | Plan of Akbar’s Tomb at Secundra | 584
334. | Diagram Section of one-half of Akbar’s Tomb at Secundra, explanatory of its Arrangements | 585
335. | View of Akbar’s Tomb, Secundra | 586
336. | Palace at Delhi | 592
337. | * View of Taje Mehal | 596
338. | Plan of Taje Mehal, Agra | 597
339. | Section of Taje Mehal, Agra | 597
340. | Plan of Mûti Musjid | 599
341. | View in Courtyard of Mûti Musjid, Agra | 600
342. | Great Mosque at Delhi from the N.E. | 601
343. | Plan of Imambara at Lucknow | 605
344. | Tomb of the late Nawab of Junaghur | 606
345. | Mosque of Shah Hamadan, Srinugger | 609
346. | Plan of Ananda Temple | 615
347. | Plan of Thapinya | 615
348. | Section of Thapinya | 616
349. | View of the Temple of Gaudapalen | 617
350. | Kong Madú Dagoba | 620
351. | Shoëmadou Pagoda, Pegu | 621
352. | Half-plan of Shoëmadou Pagoda | 621
353. | View of Pagoda in Rangûn | 623
354. | Circular Pagoda at Mengûn | 625
355. | Façade of the King’s Palace, Burmah | 627
356. | Burmese Kioum | 628
357. | Monastery at Mandalé | 629
358. | Ruins of a Pagoda at Ayuthia | 632
359. | Ruins of a Pagoda at Ayuthia | 633
360. | The Great Tower of the Pagoda Wat-ching at Bangkok | 634
361. | Hall of Audience at Bangkok | 635
362. | Half-plan of Temple of Boro Buddor | 645
363. | Elevation and Section of Temple of Boro Buddor | 645
364. | Section of one of the smaller Domes at Boro Buddor | 646
365. | Elevation of principal Dome at Boro Buddor | 646
366. | View of central entrance and stairs at Boro Buddor | 649
367. | Small Temple at Brambanam | 652
368. | Terraced Temple at Panataram | 655
369. | View of the Maha Vihara, Anuradhapura | 657
370. | Plan of Temple of Nakhon Wat | 668
371. | Elevation of the Temple of Nakhon Wat | 670
372. | Diagram Section of Corridor, Nakhon Wat | 671
373. | View of Exterior of Nakhon Wat | 671
374. | View of Interior of Corridor, Nakhon Wat | 672
375. | General view of Temple of Nakhon Wat | 675
376. | Pillar of Porch, Nakhon Wat | 676
377. | Lower Part of Pilaster Nakhon Wat | 677
378. | One of the Towers of the Temple at Ongcor Thom | 680
379. | Temple of the Great Dragon | 690
380. | Monumental Gateway of Buddhist Monastery, Pekin | 693
381. | Temple at Macao | 694
382. | Porcelain Tower, Nankin | 695
383. | Pagoda in Summer Palace, Pekin | 696
384. | Tung Chow Pagoda | 697
385. | Chinese Grave | 699
386. | Chinese Tomb | 699
387. | Group of Tombs near Pekin | 700
388. | Pailoo near Canton | 701
389. | Pailoo at Amoy | 702
390. | Diagram of Chinese Construction | 703
391. | Pavilion in the Summer Palace, Pekin | 705
392. | Pavilion in the Summer Palace, Pekin | 706
393. | View in the Winter Palace, Pekin | 707
394. | Archway in the Nankau Pass | 709

Note.—Those woodcuts in the above list marked with an asterisk are borrowed from ‘L’Inde des Rajahs,’ published by Hachette et Cie, Paris, translated and republished in this country by Messrs. Chapman and Hall.

{1}

# HISTORY
OF
INDIAN ARCHITECTURE.

{2}

{3}

## INTRODUCTION.

It is in vain, perhaps, to expect that the Literature or the Arts of any other people can be so interesting to even the best educated Europeans as those of their own country. Until it is forced on their attention, few are aware how much education does to concentrate attention within a very narrow field of observation. We become familiar in the nursery with the names of the heroes of Greek and Roman history. In every school their history and their arts are taught, memorials of their greatness meet us at every turn through life, and their thoughts and aspirations become, as it were, part of ourselves. So, too, with the Middle Ages: their religion is our religion; their architecture our architecture, and their history fades so insensibly into our own, that we can draw no line of demarcation that would separate us from them. How different is the state of feeling, when from this familiar home we turn to such a country as India. Its geography is hardly taught in schools, and seldom mastered perfectly; its history is a puzzle; its literature a mythic dream; its arts a quaint perplexity. But, above all, the names of its heroes and great men are so unfamiliar and so unpronounceable, that, except a few of those who go to India, scarcely any ever become so acquainted with them, that they call up any memories which are either pleasing or worth dwelling upon.

Were it not for this, there is probably no country—out of Europe at least—that would so well repay attention as India. None, where all the problems of natural science or of art are presented to us in so distinct and so pleasing a form. Nowhere does nature show herself in such grand and such luxurious features, and nowhere does humanity exist in more varied and more pleasing conditions. Side by side with the intellectual Brahman caste, and the chivalrous Rajput, are found the wild Bhîl and the naked Gond, not antagonistic and warring{4} one against the other, as elsewhere, but living now as they have done for thousands of years, each content with his own lot, and prepared to follow, without repining, in the footsteps of his forefathers.

It cannot, of course, be for one moment contended that India ever reached the intellectual supremacy of Greece, or the moral greatness of Rome; but, though on a lower step of the ladder, her arts are more original and more varied, and her forms of civilisation present an ever-changing variety, such as are nowhere else to be found. What, however, really renders India so interesting as an object of study is that it is now a living entity. Greece and Rome are dead and have passed away, and we are living so completely in the midst of modern Europe, that we cannot get outside to contemplate it as a whole. But India is a complete cosmos in itself; bounded on the north by the Himalayas, on the south by the sea, on the east by impenetrable jungle, and only on the west having one door of communication, across the Indus, open to the other world. Across that stream, nation after nation have poured their myriads into her coveted domain, but no reflex waves ever mixed her people with those beyond her boundaries.

In consequence of all this, every problem of anthropology or ethnography can be studied here more easily than anywhere else; every art has its living representative, and often of the most pleasing form; every science has its illustration, and many on a scale not easily matched elsewhere. But, notwithstanding all this, in nine cases out of ten, India and Indian matters fail to interest, because they are to most people new and unfamiliar. The rudiments have not been mastered when young, and, when grown up, few men have the leisure or the inclination to set to work to learn the forms of a new world, demanding both care and study; and till this is attained, it can hardly be hoped that the arts and the architecture of India will interest a European reader to the same extent as those styles treated of in the previous volumes of this work.

Notwithstanding these drawbacks, it may still be possible to present the subject of Indian architecture in such a form as to be interesting, even if not attractive. To do this, however, the narrative form must be followed as far as is compatible with such a subject. All technical and unfamiliar names must be avoided wherever it is possible to do so, and the whole accompanied with a sufficient number of illustrations to enable its forms to be mastered without difficulty. Even if this is attended to, no one volume can tell the whole of so varied and so complex a history. Without preliminary or subsequent study it can hardly be expected that so new and so vast a subject can be grasped; but one volume may contain a complete outline of the whole, and enable any one who wishes for more information to know where to look for it, or how to appreciate it when found.{5}

Whether successful or not, it seems well worth while that an attempt should be made to interest the public in Indian architectural art; first, because the artist and architect will certainly acquire broader and more varied views of their art by its study than they can acquire from any other source. More than this, any one who masters the subject sufficiently to be able to understand their art in its best and highest forms, will rise from the study with a kindlier feeling towards the nations of India, and a higher—certainly a correcter—appreciation of their social status than could be obtained from their literature, or from anything that now exists in their anomalous social and political position.

Notwithstanding all this, many may be inclined to ask, Is it worth while to master all the geographical and historical details necessary to unravel so tangled a web as this, and then try to become so familiar with their ever-varying forms as not only to be able to discriminate between the different styles, but also to follow them through all their ceaseless changes?

My impression is that this question may fairly be answered in the affirmative. No one has a right to say that he understands the history of architecture who leaves out of his view the works of an immense portion of the human race, which has always shown itself so capable of artistic development. But, more than this, architecture in India is still a living art, practised on the principles which caused its wonderful development in Europe in the 12th and 13th centuries; and there, consequently, and there alone, the student of architecture has a chance of seeing the real principles of the art in action. In Europe, at the present day, architecture is practised in a manner so anomalous and abnormal that few, if any, have hitherto been able to shake off the influence of a false system, and to see that the art of ornamental building can be based on principles of common sense; and that, when so practised, the result not only is, but must be, satisfactory. Those who have an opportunity of seeing what perfect buildings the ignorant uneducated natives of India are now producing, will easily understand how success may be achieved, while those who observe what failures the best educated and most talented architects in Europe are constantly perpetrating, may, by a study of Indian models, easily see why this must inevitably be the result. It is only in India that the two systems can now be seen practised side by side—the educated and intellectual European always failing because his principles are wrong, the feeble and uneducated native as inevitably succeeding because his principles are right. The Indian builders think only of what they are doing, and how they can best produce the effect they desire. In the European system it is considered more essential that a building, especially in its details, should be a correct copy of something else,{6} than good in itself or appropriate to its purpose; hence the difference in the result.

In one other respect India affords a singularly favourable field to the student of architecture. In no other country of the same extent are there so many distinct nationalities, each retaining its old faith and its old feelings, and impressing these on its art. There is consequently no country where the outlines of ethnology as applied to art can be so easily perceived, or their application to the elucidation of the various problems so pre-eminently important. The mode in which the art has been practised in Europe for the last three centuries has been very confusing. In India it is clear and intelligible. No one can look at the subject without seeing its importance, and no one can study the art as practised there without recognising what the principles of the science really are.

In addition, however, to these scientific advantages, it will undoubtedly be conceded by those who are familiar with the subject that for certain qualities the Indian buildings are unrivalled. They display an exuberance of fancy, a lavishness of labour, and an elaboration of detail to be found nowhere else. They may contain nothing so sublime as the hall at Karnac, nothing so intellectual as the Parthenon, nor so constructively grand as a mediæval cathedral; but for certain other qualities—not perhaps of the highest kind, yet very important in architectural art—the Indian buildings stand alone. They consequently fill up a great gap in our knowledge of the subject, which without them would remain a void.

History.

One of the greatest difficulties that exist—perhaps the greatest—in exciting an interest in Indian antiquities arises from the fact, that India has no history properly so called, before the Mahomedan invasion in the 13th century. Had India been a great united kingdom, like China, with a long line of dynasties and well-recorded dates attached to them, the task would have been comparatively easy; but nothing of the sort exists or ever existed within her boundaries. On the contrary, so far as our knowledge extends, India has always been occupied by three or four different races of mankind, who have never amalgamated so as to become one people, and each of these races have been again subdivided into numerous tribes or small nationalities nearly, sometimes wholly, independent of each other—and, what is worse than all, not one of them ever kept a chronicle or preserved a series of dates commencing from any well-known era.[4]{7}

The absence of any historical record is the more striking, because India possesses a written literature equal to, if not surpassing in variety and extent, that possessed by any other nation, before the invention, or at least before the adoption and use, of printing. The Vedas themselves, with their Upanishads and Brahmanas, and the commentaries on them, form a literature in themselves of vast extent, and some parts of which are as old, possibly older, than any written works that are now known to exist; and the Puranas, though comparatively modern, make up a body of doctrine mixed with mythology and tradition such as few nations can boast of. Besides this, however, are two great epics, surpassing in extent, if not in merit, those of any ancient nation, and a drama of great beauty, written at periods extending through a long series of years. In addition to those we have treatises on law, on grammar, on astronomy, on metaphysics and mathematics, on almost every branch of mental science—a literature extending in fact to some 10,000 or 11,000 works, but in all this not one book that can be called historical. No man in India, so far as is known, ever thought of recording the events of his own life or of repeating the previous experience of others, and it was only at some time subsequent to the Christian Era that they ever thought of establishing eras from which to date deeds or events.

All this is the more curious because in Ceylon we have, in the ‘Mahawanso,’ and other books of a like nature, a consecutive history of that island, with dates which may be depended upon within very narrow limits of error, for periods extending from B.C. 250 to the present time. At the other extremity of India, we have also in the Raja Tarangini of Kashmir, a work which Professor Wilson characterised as “the only Sanscrit composition yet discovered to which the title of History can with any propriety be applied.”[5] As we at present, however, possess it, it hardly helps us to any historical data earlier than the Christian Era, and even after that its dates for some centuries are by no means fixed and certain.

In India Proper, however, we have no such guides as even these, but for written history are almost wholly dependent on the Puranas. They do furnish us with one list of kings’ names, with the length of their reigns, so apparently truthful that they may, within narrow limits, be depended upon. They are only, however, of one range{8} of dynasties—probably, however, the paramount one—and extend only from the accession of Chandragupta—the Sandrocottus of the Greeks—B.C. 325, to the decline of the Andra dynasty, about A.D. 400 or 408. It seems probable we may find sufficient confirmation of these lists as far back as the Anjana era, B.C. 691, so as to include the period marked by the life and labours of Sakya Muni—the present Buddha—in our chronology, with tolerable certainty. All the chronology before that period is purposely and avowedly falsified by the introduction of the system of Yugs, in order to carry back the origin of the Brahmanical system into the regions of the most fabulous antiquity. From the 5th century onwards, when the Puranas began to be put into their present form, in consequence of the revival of the Brahmanical religion, instead of recording contemporary events, they purposely confused them so as to maintain their prophetic character, and prevent the detection of the falsehood of their claim to an antiquity equal to that of the Vedas. For Indian history after the 5th century we are consequently left mainly to inscriptions on monuments or on copper-plates, to coins, and to the works of foreigners for the necessary information with which the natives of the country itself have neglected to supply us. These probably will be found eventually to be at least sufficient for the purposes of chronology. Already such progress has been made in the decipherment of inscriptions and the arrangement of coins, that all the dynasties may be arranged consecutively, and even the date of the reigns of almost all the kings in the north of India have been already approximately ascertained. In the south of India so much has not been done, but this is more because there have been fewer labourers in the field than from want of materials. There are literally thousands of inscriptions in the south which have not been copied, and of the few that have been collected only a very small number have been translated; but they are such as to give us hope that, when the requisite amount of labour is bestowed upon them, we shall be able to fix the chronology of the kings of the south with a degree of certainty sufficient for all ordinary purposes.[6]

It is a far more difficult task to ascertain whether we shall ever recover the History of India before the time of the advent of Buddha, or before the Anjana epoch, B.C. 691. Here we certainly will find no coins or inscriptions to guide us, and no buildings to illustrate the arts, or to mark the position of cities, while all ethnographic traces have become so blurred, if not obliterated, that they serve us little as guides through the labyrinth. Yet on the other hand there is so large{9} a mass of literature—such as it is—bearing on the subject, that we cannot but hope that, when a sufficient amount of learning is brought to bear upon it, the leading features of the history of even that period may be recovered. In order, however, to render it available, it will not require industry so much as a severe spirit of criticism to winnow the few grains of useful truth out of the mass of worthless chaff this literature contains. But it does not seem too much to expect even this, from the severely critical spirit of the age. Meanwhile, the main facts of the case seem to be nearly as follows, in so far as it is necessary to state them, in order to make what follows intelligible.

Aryans.

At some very remote period in the world’s history—for reasons stated in the Appendix I believe it to have been at about the epoch called by the Hindus the Kali Yug, or B.C. 3101—the Aryans, a Sanscrit-speaking people, entered India across the Upper Indus, coming from Central Asia. For a long time they remained settled in the Punjab, or on the banks of the Sarasvati, then a more important stream than now, the main body, however, still remaining to the westward of the Indus. If, however, we may trust our chronology, we find them settled 2000 years before the Christian Era, in Ayodhya, and then in the plenitude of their power. It was about that time apparently that the event took place which formed the groundwork of the far more modern poem known as the ‘Ramayana.’ The pure Aryans, still uncontaminated by admixture with the blood of the natives, then seem to have attained the height of their prosperity in India, and to have carried their victorious arms, it may be, as far south as Ceylon. There is, however, no reason to suppose that they at that time formed any permanent settlements in the Deccan, but it was at all events opened to their missionaries, and by slow degrees imbibed that amount of Brahmanism which eventually pervaded the whole of the south. Seven or eight hundred years after that time, or it may be about or before B.C. 1200, took place those events which form the theme of the more ancient epic known as the ‘Mahabharata,’ which opens up an entirely new view of Indian social life. If the heroes of that poem were Aryans at all, they were of a much less pure type than those who composed the songs of the Vedas, or are depicted in the verses of the ‘Ramayana.’ Their polyandry, their drinking bouts, their gambling tastes, and love of fighting, mark them as a very different race from the peaceful shepherd immigrants of the earlier age, and point much more distinctly towards a Tartar, trans-Himalayan origin, than to the cradle of the Aryan stock in Central Asia. As if to mark the difference of which they themselves felt the existence, they distinguished themselves, by name, as belonging to a Lunar race,{10} distinct from, and generally antagonistic to, the Solar race, which was the proud distinction of the purer and earlier Aryan settlers in India.

Five or six hundred years after this, or about B.C. 700, we again find a totally different state of affairs in India. The Aryans no longer exist as a separate nationality, and neither the Solar nor the Lunar race are the rulers of the earth. The Brahmans have become a priestly caste, and share the power with the Kshatriyas, a race of far less purity of descent. The Vaisyas, as merchants and husbandmen, have become a power, and even the Sudras are acknowledged as a part of the body politic; and, though not mentioned in the Scriptures, the Nagas, or Snake people, had become a most influential part of the population. They are first mentioned in the ‘Mahabharata,’ where they play a most important part in causing the death of Parikshit, which led to the great sacrifice for the destruction of the Nagas by Janemajaya, which practically closes the history of the time. Destroyed, however, they were not, as it was under a Naga dynasty that ascended the throne of Magadha, in 691, that Buddha was born, B.C. 623, and the Nagas were the people whose conversion placed Buddhism on a secure basis in India, and led to its ultimate adoption by Asoka (B.C. 250) as the religion of the State.[7]

Although Buddhism was first taught by a prince of the Solar race, and consequently of purely Aryan blood, and though its first disciples were Brahmans, it had as little affinity with the religion of the Vedas as Christianity had with the Pentateuch, and its fate was the same. The one religion was taught by one of Jewish extraction to the Jews and for the Jews; but it was ultimately rejected by them, and adopted by the Gentiles, who had no affinity of race or religion with the inhabitants of Judæa. Though meant originally, no doubt, for Aryans, the Buddhist religion was ultimately rejected by the Brahmans, who were consequently utterly eclipsed and superseded by it for nearly a thousand years; and we hear little or nothing of them and their religion till they reappeared at the court of the great Vicramaditya (490-530), when their religion began to assume that strange shape which it now still retains in India. In its new form it is as unlike the pure religion of the Vedas as it is possible to conceive one religion being to another; unlike that, also, of the older portions of the ‘Mahabharata’; but a confused mess of local superstitions and imported myths, covering up and hiding the Vedantic and Buddhist doctrines, which may sometimes be detected as underlying it. Whatever it be, however, it cannot be the religion of an Aryan, or even of a purely Turanian people, because it was invented by and for as{11} mixed a population as probably were ever gathered together into one country—a people whose feelings and superstitions it only too truly represents.

Dravidians.

Although, therefore, as was hinted above, there might be no great difficulty in recovering all the main incidents and leading features of the history of the Aryans, from their first entry into India till they were entirely absorbed into the mass of the population some time before the Christian Era, there could be no greater mistake than to suppose that their history would fully represent the ancient history of the country. The Dravidians are a people who, in historical times, seem to have been probably as numerous as the pure Aryans, and at the present day form one-fifth of the whole population of India. As Turanians, which they seem certainly to be, they belong, it is true, to a lower intellectual status than the Aryans, but they have preserved their nationality pure and unmixed, and, such as they were at the dawn of history, so they seem to be now.

Their settlement in India extends to such remote pre-historic times, that we cannot feel even sure that we should regard them as immigrants, or, at least, as either conquerors or colonists on a large scale, but rather as aboriginal in the sense in which that term is usually understood. Generally it is assumed that they entered India across the Lower Indus, leaving the cognate Brahui in Belochistan as a mark of the road by which they came, and, as the affinities of their language seem to be with the Ugrians and northern Turanian tongues, this view seems probable.[8] But they have certainly left no trace of their migrations anywhere between the Indus and the Nerbudda, and all the facts of their history, so far as they are known, would seem to lead to an opposite conclusion. The hypothesis that would represent what we know of their history most correctly would place their original seat in the extreme south, somewhere probably not far from Madura or Tanjore, and thence spreading fan-like towards the north, till they met the Aryans on the Vindhya Mountains. The question, again, is not of much importance for our present purposes, as they do not seem to have reached that degree of civilisation at any period anterior to the Christian Era which would enable them to practise any of the arts of civilised life with success, so as to bring them within the scope of a work devoted to the history of art.

It may be that at some future period, when we know more of the ancient arts of these Dravidians than we now do, and have become familiar with the remains of the Accadians or early Turanian in{12}habitants of Babylonia, we may detect affinities which may throw some light on this very obscure part of history. At present, however, the indications are much too hazy to be at all relied upon. Geographically, however, one thing seems tolerably clear. If the Dravidians came into India in historical times, it was not from Central Asia that they migrated, but from Babylonia, or some such southern region of the Asiatic continent.

Dasyus.

In addition to these two great distinct and opposite nationalities, there exists in India a third, which, in pre-Buddhist times, was as numerous, perhaps even more so, than either the Aryans or Dravidians, but of whose history we know even less than we do of the two others. Ethnologists have not yet been even able to agree on a name by which to call them. I have suggested Dasyus,[9] a slave people, as that is the name by which the Aryans designated them when they found them there on their first entrance into India, and subjected them to their sway. Whoever they were, they seem to have been a people of a very inferior intellectual capacity to either the Aryans or Dravidians, and it is by no means clear that they could ever of themselves have risen to such a status as either to form a great community capable of governing themselves, and consequently having a history,[10] or whether they must always have remained in the low and barbarous position in which we now find some of their branches. When the Aryans first entered India they seem to have found them occupying the whole valley of the Ganges—the whole country in fact between the Vindhya and the Himalayan Mountains.[11] At present they are only found in anything like purity in the mountain ranges that bound that great plain. There they are known as Bhîls, Coles, Sontals, Nagas, and other mountains tribes. But they certainly form the lowest underlying stratum of the population over the whole of the Gangetic plain.[12] So far as their affinities have been ascertained, they are with{13} the trans-Himalayan population, and it either is that they entered India through the passes of that great mountain range, or it might be more correct to say that the Thibetans are a fragment of a great population that occupied both the northern and southern slope of that great chain of hills at some very remote pre-historic time.

Whoever they were, they were the people who, in remote times, were apparently the worshippers of Trees and Serpents; but what interests us more in them, and makes the inquiry into their history more desirable, is that they were the people who first adopted Buddhism in India, and they, or their congeners, are the only people who, in historic times, as now, adhered, or still adhere to, that form of faith. No purely Aryan people ever were, or ever could be, Buddhist, nor, so far as I know, were any Dravidian community ever converted to that faith. But in Bengal, in Ceylon, in Thibet, Burmah, Siam, and China, wherever a Thibetan people exists, or a people allied to them, there Buddhism flourished and now prevails. But in India the Dravidians resisted it in the south, and a revival of Aryanism abolished it in the north.

Architecturally, there is no difficulty in defining the limits of the Dasyu province: wherever a square tower-like temple exists with a perpendicular base, but a curvilinear outline above, such as that shown in the woodcut on the following page, there we may feel certain of the existence, past or present, of a people of Dasyu extraction, retaining their purity very nearly in the direct ratio to the number of these temples found in the district. Were it not consequently for the difficulty of introducing new names and obtaining acceptance to what is unfamiliar, the proper names for the style prevailing in northern India would be Dasyu style, instead of Indo-Aryan or Dasyu-Aryan which I have felt constrained to adopt. No one can accuse the pure Aryans of introducing this form in India, or of building temples at all, or of worshipping images of Siva or Vishnu, with which these temples are filled, and they consequently have little title to confer their name on the style. The Aryans had, however, become so impure in blood before these temples were erected, and were so mixed up with the Dasyus, and had so influenced their religion and the arts, that it may be better to retain a name which sounds familiar, and does not too sharply prejudge the question. Be this as it may, one thing seems tolerably clear, that the regions occupied by the Aryans in India were conterminous with those of the Dasyus, or, in other words,{14} that the Aryans conquered the whole of the aboriginal or native tribes who occupied the plains of northern India, and ruled over them to such an extent as materially to influence their religion and their arts, and also very materially to modify even their language. So much so, indeed, that after some four or five thousand years of domination we should not be surprised if we have some difficulty in recovering traces of the original population, and could probably not do so, if some fragments of the people had not sought refuge in the hills on the north and south of the great Gangetic plain, and there have remained fossilised, or at least sufficiently permanent for purposes of investigation.

Hindu Temple, Bancorah.

Sisunaga Dynasty, B.C. 691 TO 325.

Leaving these, which must, for the present at least, be considered as practically pre-historic times, we tread on surer ground when we approach the period when Buddha was born, and devoted his life to rescue man from sin and suffering. There seems very little reason for doubting that he was born in the year 623, in the reign of Bimbasara, the fifth king of this dynasty, and died B.C. 543, at the age of eighty years, in the eighth year of Ajattasatru, the eighth king. New sources of information are opening out so rapidly regarding these times, that there seems little doubt we shall before long be able to recover a perfectly authentic account of the political events of that period, and as perfect a picture of the manners and the customs of those days. It is too true, however, that those who wrote{15} the biography of Buddha in subsequent ages so overlaid the simple narrative of his life with fables and absurdities, that it is now difficult to separate the wheat from the chaff; but we have sculptures extending back to within three centuries of his death, at which time we may fairly assume that a purer tradition and correcter version of the Scriptures must have prevailed. From what has recently occurred, we may hope to creep even further back than this, and eventually to find early illustrations which will enable us to exercise so sound a criticism on the books as to enable us to restore the life of Buddha to such an extent, as to place it among the authentic records of the benefactors of mankind.

Immense progress has been made during the last thirty or forty years in investigating the origin of Buddhism, and the propagation of its doctrines in India, and in communicating the knowledge so gained to the public in Europe. Much, however, remains to be done before the story is complete, and divested of all the absurdities which subsequent commentators have heaped upon it; and more must yet be effected before the public can be rendered familiar with what is so essentially novel to them. Still, the leading events in the life of the founder of the religion are simple, and sufficiently well ascertained for all practical purposes.[13]

The founder of this religion was one of the last of a long line of kings, known as the Solar dynasties, who, from a period shortly subsequent to the advent of the Aryans into India, had held paramount sway in Ayodhya—the modern Oude. About the 12th or 13th century B.C. they were superseded by another race of much less purely Aryan blood, known as the Lunar race, who transferred the seat of power to capitals situated in the northern parts of the Doab. In consequence of this, the lineal descendants of the Solar kings were reduced to a petty principality at the foot of the Himalayas, where Sakya Muni was born about 623 B.C. For twenty-nine years he enjoyed the pleasures, and followed the occupations, usual to the men of his rank and position; but at that age, becoming painfully impressed by the misery incident to human existence, he determined to devote the rest of his life to an attempt to alleviate it. For this purpose he forsook his parents and wife, abandoned friends and all the advantages of his position, and, for the following fifty-one years, devoted himself steadily to the task he had set before himself. Years were spent in the meditation and mortification necessary to fit himself{16} for his mission; the rest of his long life was devoted to wandering from city to city, teaching and preaching, and doing everything that gentle means could effect to disseminate the doctrines which he believed were to regenerate the world, and take the sting out of human misery.

He died, or, in the phraseology of his followers, obtained Nirvana—was absorbed into the deity—at Kusinara, in northern Behar, in the 80th year of his age, 543 years[14] B.C.

With the information that is now fast accumulating around the subject, there seems no great difficulty in understanding why the mission of Sakya Muni was so successful as it proved to be. He was born at a time when the purity of the Aryan races in India had become so deteriorated by the constant influx of less pure tribes from the north and west, that their power, and consequently their influence, was fast fading away. At that time, too, it seems that the native races had, from long familiarity with the Aryans, acquired such a degree of civilisation as led them to desire something like equality with their masters, who were probably always in a numerical minority in most parts of the valley of the Ganges. In such a condition of things the preacher was sure of a willing audience who proclaimed the abolition of caste, and taught that all men, of whatever nation or degree, had an equal chance of reaching happiness, and ultimately heaven, by the practice of virtue, and by that only. The subject races—the Turanian Dasyus—hailed him as a deliverer, and it was by them that the religion was adopted and proclaimed, and that of the Aryan Brahmans was for a time obliterated, or at least overshadowed and obscured.

It is by no means clear how far Buddha was successful in converting the multitude to his doctrines during his lifetime. At his death, the first synod was held at Rajagriha, and five hundred monks of a superior order, it is said, were assembled there on that occasion,[15] and if so they must have represented a great multitude. But the accounts of this, and of the second convocation, held 100 years afterwards at Vaisali, on the Gunduck, have not yet had the full light of recent investigation brought to bear upon them. Indeed the whole annals of the Naga dynasty, from the death of Buddha, B.C. 543, to the accession of Chandragupta, 325, are about the least satisfactory of the period. Those of Ceylon were purposely falsified in order to carry back the landing of Vyjya, the first conqueror from Kalinga, to a period coincident with the date of Buddha’s death, while a period{17} apparently of sixty years at least elapsed between the two events. All this may, however, be safely left to future explorers. We have annals and coins,[16] and we may recover inscriptions and sculptures belonging to this period, and, though it is most improbable we shall recover any architectural remains, there are evidently materials existing which, when utilised, may suffice for the purpose.

The kings of this dynasty seem to have been considered as of a low caste, and were not, consequently, in favour either with the Brahman or, at that time, with the Buddhist; and no events which seem to have been thought worthy of being remembered, except the second convocation, are recorded as happening in their reigns, after the death of the great Ascetic—or, at all events, of being recorded in such annals as we possess.

Maurya Dynasty, B.C. 325 TO 188.

The case was widely different with the Maurya dynasty, which was certainly one of the most brilliant, and is fortunately one of the best known, of the ancient dynasties of India. The first king was Chandragupta, the Sandrocottus of the Greeks, to whom Megasthenes was sent as ambassador by Seleucus, the successor of Alexander in the western parts of his Asiatic empire. It is from his narrative—now unfortunately lost—that the Greeks acquired almost all the knowledge they possessed of India at that period. The country was then divided into 120 smaller principalities, but the Maurya residing in Palibothra—the modern Patna—seems to have exercised a paramount sway over the whole. It was not, however, this king, but his grandson, the great Asoka (B.C. 272 to 236), who raised this dynasty to its highest pitch of prosperity and power. Though utterly unknown to the Greeks, we have from native sources a more complete picture of the incidents of his reign than of any ancient sovereign of India. The great event that made him famous in Buddhist history was his conversion to that faith, and the zeal he showed in propa{18}gating the doctrines of his new religion. He did, in fact, for Buddhism, exactly what Constantine did for Christianity, and at about the same distance of time from the death of the founder of the faith. From a struggling sect he made it the religion of the State, and established it on the basis on which it lasted supreme for nearly 1000 years. In order to render his subjects familiar with the doctrines of his new faith, he caused a series of edicts embodying them to be engraved on rocks near Peshawur, in Gujerat, in the valley of the Dhoon under the Himalayas, in Cuttack, and in several intermediate places. He held the third and greatest convocation of the faithful in his capital at Patna, and, on its dissolution, sent missionaries to spread the faith in the Yavana country, whose capital was Alexandria, near the present city of Cabul. Others were despatched to Kashmir and Gandhara; one was sent to the Himawanta—the valleys of the Himalaya, and possibly part of Thibet; others were despatched to the Maharatta country, and to three other places in Central and Western India which have not yet been identified with certainty. Two missionaries were sent to the Souverna Bhumi, a place now known as Thatun on the Sitang river, in Pegu, and his own son and daughter were deputed to Ceylon.[17] All those countries, in fact, which might be called foreign, but which were inhabited by races who might in any way be supposed to be allied to the Dasyus of Bengal, were then sought to be converted to the faith. He also formed alliances with Antiochus the Great, Antigonus, and with Ptolemy Philadelphus, and Magas of Cyrene, for the establishment of hospitals and the protection of his co-religionists in their countries. More than all this, he built innumerable topes and monasteries all over the country; and, though none of those now existing can positively be identified as those actually built by him, there seems no reason whatever for doubting that the sculptured rails at Buddh Gaya and Bharhut, the caves at Bharabar in Behar, some of those at Udyagiri in Cuttack, and the oldest of those in the Western Ghâts were all erected or excavated during the existence of this dynasty, if not by him himself. These, with inscriptions and coins, and such histories as exist, make up a mass of materials for a picture of India during this dynasty such as no other can present; and, above all, they offer a complete representation of the religious forms and beliefs of the kings and people, which render any mistake regarding them impossible. It was Buddhism, but without a personal Buddha, and with Tree and Serpent worship cropping up in every unexpected corner.

There is certainly no dynasty in the whole range of ancient Indian{19} history that would better repay the labour of an exhaustive investigation than that of these Maurya kings. Not only were they the first in historical times who, so far as we know, united the whole of India into one great kingdom, but they were practically the first who came in contact with European civilisation and Western politics. More than even this, it is probably owing to the action of the third king of this dynasty that Buddhism, from being the religion of an obscure sect, became, at one time, the faith of a third of the human race, and has influenced the belief and the moral feelings of a greater number of men than any other religion that can be named.

Fortunately, the materials for such a monograph as is required are abundant, and every day is adding to them. It is to this dynasty, and to it only, that must be applied all those passages in classical authors which describe the internal state of India, and they are neither few nor insignificant. Though the Hindus themselves cannot be said to have contributed much history, they have given us, in the ‘Mudra Rakshasa,’[18] a poetical version of the causes of the revolution that placed the Mauryas on the throne. But, putting these aside, their own inscriptions give us dates, and a perfectly authentic contemporary account of the religious faith and feelings of the period; while the numerous bas-reliefs of the rails at Buddh Gaya and Bharhut afford a picture of the manners, customs, and costumes of the day, and a gauge by which we can measure their artistic status and judge how far their art was indigenous, how far influenced by foreign elements. The dates of the kings of this dynasty are also perfectly well known,[19] and the whole framework of their history depends so completely on contemporary native monuments, that there need be no real uncertainty regarding any of the outlines of the picture when once the subject is fairly grasped and thoroughly handled.

It is the firmest standpoint we have from which to judge of Indian civilisation and history, whether looking to the past or to the future, and it is one that gives a very high idea of the position at which the Hindus had arrived before they came practically into contact with the civilisation of the West.

Sunga Dynasty, B.C. 188 TO 76.
Kanwa Dynasty, B.C. 76 TO 31.

History affords us little beyond the dates of the kings’ reigns for the next two dynasties, but there seems no reason to doubt the general{20} correctness with which these are recorded in the Puranas, and by degrees we are collecting inscriptions and finding caves that certainly belong to their time, so that we may hope to breathe life into what has hitherto appeared only a dry list of names. Such inscriptions as bear their names have yet only been discovered on the western caves at Karli, Nassick, and similar places, but there seems no reason for doubting that they reigned also in Magadha, and, if so, over Orissa, so that we may look for further information regarding them on the eastern as well as on the western side of India. These dynasties were not, however, apparently known to the Greeks, and, being Buddhist, are passed over in comparative silence in the Puranas. It is thus only from their monuments that we can hope to recover their history. Up to the present time, those identified as belonging to them are few and far between, but they have not yet been systematically searched for, and till this is done there is no reason to despair of ultimate success.

Andra Dynasty, B.C. 31 TO A.D. 429.

The dynasty that succeeded to these Rois fainéants is—after the Mauryas—the most important of all those about this period of Indian history. To the classical authors they are known as the Andræ, in the Puranas as Andrabrityas, and in the inscriptions as Satakarnis or Satavahanas; but under whatever name, notwithstanding occasional periods of depression, they played a most important part in the history of India, during more than four centuries and a half. Latterly they have been very much overlooked in consequence of their leaving no coins behind them, while it is from numismatic researches, principally, that precision has been given to much of the history of the period. The dynasties in India, however, who practically introduced coinage within her limits, all came across the Indus as strangers bringing with them an art they had learnt from the Bactrians, or those who succeeded them in the north-west. The Andras, being a native dynasty of Central India, had no coinage of importance, and have consequently no place in these numismatic researches; they have, however, left many and most interesting inscriptions in the western caves, and traces of their existence occur in many parts of India.

Architecturally, their history begins with the gateways of the Tope at Sanchi; the southern or oldest of these was almost certainly erected during the reign of the first Satakarni in the first quarter of the 1st century—while Christ was teaching at Jerusalem—and the other three in the course of that century. It ends with the completion of the rail at Amravati, which with almost equal certainty was com{21}menced in the first quarter of the 4th century, and completed about A.D. 450.[20]

Between these two monuments there is no great difficulty in filling up the architectural picture from the caves, at Nassick and Ajunta, and other places in western India, and more materials will no doubt eventually be discovered.

The history of this dynasty is more than usually interesting for our purposes, as it embraces nearly the whole period during which Buddhism reigned almost supreme in India. It became the state religion, it is true, two centuries earlier under Asoka, but there is no reason for believing that the Vedic religion or Brahmanism vanished immediately. During the first four centuries, however, of the Christian Era we have not a trace of a Hindu building or cave, and, so far as any material evidence goes, it seems that Buddhism at the time was the religion of the land. It cannot, of course, be supposed that the Hindu faith was wholly obliterated, but it certainly was dormant, and in abeyance, and, to use a Buddhist expression, the yellow robes shone over the length and breadth of the land.

It was during the reign of these Andras, though not by them, that the fourth convocation was held by Kanishka, in the north of India, and the new doctrine, the Mahayana, introduced by Nagárjuna—a change similar to that made by Gregory the Great when he established the Church, as opposed to the primitive forms of Christianity, at about the same distance of time from the death of the founder of the religion. My impression is, that this convocation was held in the last quarter of the first century of our era, probably 79. Certain at least it is, that it was about that time that Buddhism was first practically introduced into China, Thibet, and Burmah, and apparently by missionaries sent out from this as they were from the third convocation.

It was towards the end of the reign of the Andras that Fa Hian visited India (A.D. 400). As his objects in doing so were entirely of a religious nature, he does not allude to worldly politics, nor give us a king’s name we can identify; but the picture we gather from his narrative is one of peace and prosperity in so far as the country is concerned, and of supremacy for his religion. Heretics are, it is true, mentioned occasionally, but they are few and far between. Buddhism was then certainly the religion of the north, especially in the north-west of India; but even then there were symptoms of a change, in the central provinces and outlying parts of the country.{22}

Guptas, 319 TO 465.
Ballabhis, 465 TO 712 (?).

At the time when Fa Hian was visiting the sacred places in India, the power of the Andra dynasty was passing away. It had culminated with Gautamiputra (312 to 333), and they were fast sinking into a second-class position among Indian princes. The dynasty that superseded them was that of the Guptas, who, at the end of the fourth century of our era, seem to have attained to the position of lords paramount in northern India. They date their inscriptions, which are numerous and interesting, from an era established by the Andra king Gautamiputra, four cycles of 60 years each, or 240 years after the Saka era of A.D. 79, or in 319; but it was not apparently till under the third king, Samudra, about 380, that they really obtained the empire of northern India, which they retained till the death of Skandagupta, about the year 465, or it may be a little later.

It is during their reign that we first perceive in high places the germs of that change which was gradually creeping over the religious system of India. That the Guptas were patrons of Buddhism is evident from the gifts Chandragupta II. made to the tope at Sanchi in the year 400, and recorded on the rail of that Monument, but their other inscriptions, on the lâts at Allahabad and Bhitari, show a decided tendency towards Hinduism, but a class of Hinduism which was still far removed from the wild extravagances of the Puranas. There seems little doubt that the boar at Erun, and the buildings there, belong to this dynasty, and are consequently among the earliest if not the very oldest temples in India, dedicated to the new religion, which was then raising its head in defiance to Buddhism.

From their coins and inscriptions, we may feel certain that the Guptas possessed when in the plenitude of their power the whole of northern India with the province of Gujerat, but how far the boasts of Samudra Gupta on the Allahabad pillar were justified is by no means clear. If that inscription is to be believed, the whole of the southern country as far as Ceylon, together with Assam and Nepal, were subject to their sway. However brilliant it may have been, their power was of short duration. Gujerat and all the western provinces were wrested from them by the Ballabhis, about the year 465, and a new kingdom then founded by a dynasty bearing that name, which lasted till the great catastrophe, which about two and a half centuries afterwards revolutionised India.

Ujjain Dynasty.

Although it was becoming evident in the time of the Guptas that a change was creeping over the religious belief of India, it was not{23} then that the blow was struck which eventually proved fatal, but by a dynasty which succeeded them in Central India. Being Hindus, we know less that is authentic about their history than about the Buddhist dynasties, who lived to inscribe their names on rocks and in caves; but there seems very little doubt that the great Vicramaditya reigned in Malwa from 495 to 530, though the Hindus, in order to connect his name with an era they thought fit to establish 56 years B.C., have done all they can to mystify and obscure the chronology of the period. Notwithstanding this, it seems perfectly clear that about this time there reigned in central India a king who, by his liberality and magnificence, acquired a renown among the Hindus, only second to that obtained by Solomon among the Jews. By his patronage of literature and his encouragement of art, his fame spread over the length and breadth of the land, and to this day his name is quoted as the symbol of all that is great and magnificent in India. What is more to our present purpose, he was an undoubted patron of the Brahmanical religion, a worshipper of Siva and Vishnu, and no tradition associates his name directly or indirectly with anything connected with Buddhism. Unfortunately we have no buildings which can be attributed to him, and no inscriptions. But the main fact of a Brahmanical king reigning and acquiring such influence in Central India at that time is only too significant of the declining position of the Buddhist religion at that period.

His successor, Siladitya, seems to have returned to the old faith, and during his long reign of sixty years to have adhered to the Buddhist doctrines.

In the beginning of the next century, after a short period of anarchy, we find a second Siladitya seated on the throne of Canouge as lord paramount in India, and, during a prosperous reign of thirty-eight to forty years, exercising supreme sway in that country. It was during his reign that the Chinese pilgrim, Hiouen Thsang visited India, and gave a much more full and graphic account of what he saw than his predecessor Fa Hian. Nothing can be more characteristic of the state of religious feeling, and the spirit of toleration then prevailing, than the fête given by this king at Allahabad in the year 643, at which the kings of Ballabhi and Kamarupa (Assam) were present. The king being himself a Buddhist, the first days were devoted to the distribution, among the followers of that religion, of the treasures accumulated during the previous five years, but then came the turn of the Brahmans, who were treated with equal honour and liberality; then followed the fête of the other sects, among whom the Jains appear conspicuous. All were feasted and fêted, and sent away laden with gifts and mementos of the magnificence and liberality of the great king.

Pleasant as this picture is to look upon, it is evident that such a state of affairs could hardly be stable, and it was in vain to expect{24} that peace could long be maintained between a rising and ambitious sect, and one which was fast sinking into decay; apparently beneath the load of an overgrown priesthood. Accordingly we find that ten years after the death of Siladitya troubles supervened as prophesied,[21] and the curtain soon descends on the great drama of the history of northern India, not to be raised again for nearly three centuries. It is true, we can still follow the history of the Ballabhis for some little time longer, and it would be satisfactory if we could fix the date of their destruction with precision, as it was the event which in the Hindu mind is considered the closing act of the drama. If it was destroyed by a foreign enemy, it must have been by the Moslem, either before or during the time Mohammed Kasim, A.H. 712, 713. It was a flourishing city in 640, when visited by Hiouen Thsang, and from that time, till the death of Kasim, the Moslems were in such power on the Indus, and their historians tell us the events of these years in such detail, that no other foreigner could have crossed the river during that period. If it perished by some internal revolution of convulsion, which is more probable, it only shared the fate that overtook all northern India about this period. Strange to say, even the Moslems, then in the plenitude of their power during the Khalifat of Bagdad, retired from their Indian conquests, as if the seething cauldron were too hot for even them to exist within its limits.

The more southern dynasty of the Chalukyas of Kalyan seem to have retained their power down to about 750, and may, up to that time, have exercised a partial sway to the north of the Nerbudda, but after that we lose all sight of them; while, as a closing act in the great drama, the Raja Tarangini represents the King of Kashmir—Lalitaditya—as conquering India from north to south, and subjecting all the five kingdoms, into which it was nominally divided, to his imperious sway.

We need not stop now to inquire whether this was exactly what happened or not. It is sufficient for present purposes to know that about the middle of the 8th century a dark cloud settled over the north of India, and that during the next two centuries she was torn to pieces by internal troubles, which have left nothing but negative evidence of their existence. During that period no event took place of which we have any record; no dynasty rose to sufficient distinction to be quoted even in the lists of the bard; no illustrious name appears whose acts have been recorded; no buildings were erected of which we have a trace;[22] and but few inscriptions engraved. Dark{25} night seems to have settled over the land, and whether we shall ever be able to penetrate into its mysteries seems more than doubtful.

When light again appears in the middle of the 10th century the scene is wonderfully changed. Buddhism had practically disappeared in the north and west at least, though it still lingered on in Bengal, and Jainism had supplanted it in most places; but the mass of the people had become followers of Vishnu or Siva. New dynasties had arisen which, though they try to trace their lineage back to the troublous times when Ballabhi fell, were new to Indian history. Old India had passed away, and the history of modern India was about to open. The old dynasties had become extinct, and the Rajput races were gaily stepping forward to assume their places—too soon, alas! to be engaged in a life or death struggle with the most implacable foe to their race and religion that India has ever known. It was a cruel Nemesis that their victories over the Buddhists should soon have been followed by the fatal siege at Somnath in 1024, and the fight on the banks of the Ghaghar in 1193, which practically laid India at the feet of the Moslem invader, and changed the whole course of her subsequent career. But, as hinted above, with the appearance of the Moslem on the scene, our chronological difficulties cease, and the subject need not therefore be further pursued in this introduction.

IMMIGRATIONS.

From the above brief sketch of ancient Indian history it may be gathered that it is doubtful whether we shall ever be able to clothe with solid flesh the skeleton of history which is all we possess anterior to the advent of Buddha. It is also possible that pious frauds may have so confused the sequence of events between his death and the rise of the Mauryas, that there will be great difficulty in restoring that period to anything like completeness. But for the thousand years that elapsed between “the revenge of Chanakya” and the fall of Ballabhi the materials are ample, and when sufficient industry is applied to their elucidation there is little doubt that the whole may be made clear and intelligible. It does not fall within the scope of this work to attempt such a task; but it is necessary to endeavour to make its outlines clear, as, without this being done, what follows will be utterly unintelligible; while, at the same time, one of the principal objects of this work is to point out how the architecture, which is one important branch of the evidence, may be brought to bear on the subject.

No direct evidence, however, derived only from events that occurred in India itself, would suffice to make the phenomena of her history clear, without taking into account the successive migrations of tribes{26} and peoples who, in all ages, so far as we know, poured across the Indus from the westward to occupy her fertile plains.

As mentioned above, the great master fact that explains almost all we know of the ancient history of India is our knowledge that two or three thousand years before the birth of Christ a Sanscrit-speaking nation migrated from the valleys of the Oxus and Jaxartes. They crossed the Indus in such numbers as to impress their civilisation and their language on the whole of the north of India, and this to such an extent as practically to obliterate, as far as history is concerned, the original inhabitants of the valley of the Ganges, whoever they may have been. At the time when this migration took place the power and civilisation of Central Asia were concentrated on the lower Euphrates, and the Babylonian empire never seems to have extended across the Carmanian desert to the eastward. The road, consequently, between Bactria and India was open, and nations might pass and re-pass between the two countries without fear of interruption from any other people.

If any of the ancient dynasties of Babylonia extended their power towards the East, it was along the coast of Gedrosia, and not in a north-easterly direction. It is, indeed, by no means improbable, as hinted above, that the origin of the Dravidians may be found among the Accadian or in some of the Turanian peoples who occupied southern Babylonia in ancient times, and who may, either by sea or land, have passed to the western shores of India. Till, however, further information is available, this is mere speculation, though probably in the direction in which truth may hereafter be found.

When the seat of power was moved northward to Nineveh, the Assyrians seem to have occupied the country eastward of the Caspian in sufficient force to prevent any further migration. At least, after that time—say B.C. 1000—we have no further trace of any Aryan tribe crossing the Indus going eastward, and it seems mainly to have been a consequence of this cutting off of the supply of fresh blood that the purity of their race in India was so far weakened as to admit of the Buddhist reform taking root, and being adopted to the extent it afterwards attained.

During the period of the Achemænian sway, the Persians certainly occupied the countries about the Oxus in sufficient strength to prevent any movement of the peoples. So essentially indeed had Bactria and Sogdiana become parts of the Persian empire, that Alexander was obliged to turn aside from his direct route to conquer them, as well as the rest of the kingdom of Darius, before advancing on India.

Whether it were founded for that purpose or not, the little Greek kingdom of Bactria was sufficiently powerful, while it lasted, to keep the barbarians in check; but when about the year 127-126 B.C.,{27} the Yuechi and other cognate tribes invaded Sogdiana, and finally about 120 B.C. conquered the whole of Bactria,[23] they opened a new chapter in the history of India, the effects of which are felt to the present day.

It is not yet quite clear how soon after the destruction of the Bactrian kingdom these Turanian tribes conquered Cabul, and occupied the country between that city and the Indus. Certain it is, however, that they were firmly seated on the banks of that river before the Christian Era, and under the great king Kanishka had become an Indian power of very considerable importance. The date of this king is, unfortunately, one of those small puzzles that still remain to be solved. Generally, it is supposed he reigned till about twenty to forty years after Christ.[24] Evidence, however, has lately been brought to light, which seems to prove that he was the founder of the Saka era, A.D. 79, and that his reign must be placed in the last quarter of the first century of our era, instead of in the earlier half.[25]

Be this as it may, it seems quite certain that the power of these Turuska kings spread over the whole Punjab, and extended as far at least as Muttra on the Jumna, in the first century of the Christian Era.

At the same time another horde, known to us only from the coins and inscriptions in which they call themselves Sahs or Sah kings, crossed the Indus lower down, and occupied the whole of the province of Gujerat. It is not quite clear whether the first of them, Nahapana, was only the Viceroy of one of these northern kings—probably of Kanishka himself—though he and his successors afterwards became independent, and founded a kingdom of their own. They seem to date their coins and inscriptions from the Saka era, A.D. 79, and the series extends from that date to A.D. 349, or at latest to 371.[26] It thus happens that though Gautamiputra, the Andra king (312-333), boasts of having humbled them,[27] they were only in fact finally disposed of by the rise of the Guptas.

No other foreign race, so far as we know, seems to have crossed the Lower Indus into India. But the whole external history of northern India, from the time of Kanishka to that of Ahmed Shah Durani (1761) is a narrative of a continuous succession of tribes of Scythian origin,{28} pouring across the Upper Indus into India, each more Turanian than the one that preceded it, till the whole culminated in the Mogul conquest of India, in the 15th century, by a people as distinct in blood from the Aryans as any that exist.

Of the older races, it seems probable that the Yavanas must be distinguished from the Turanians. It will hardly now be contended that they were pure Greeks, though their name may be merely a mispronunciation of Ionian. The term seems to have been applied by Indian authors to any foreign race coming from the westward who did not belong to one of the acknowledged kingdoms known to them. As such it would apply to any western adventurers, who during the existence of the Bactrian kingdom sought to establish settlements in any part of India, and would also apply to the expatriated Bactrians themselves when driven from their homes by the Yuechi, 120 or 130 years B.C. It is only in this sense that we can explain their presence in Orissa before and about the Christian Era, but in the west the term may have been more loosely applied. The Cambojas seem to have been a people inhabiting the country between Candahar and Cabul, who, when the tide was setting eastward, joined the crowd, and sought settlements in the more fertile countries within the Indus.

The Sakas were well known to classical authors as the Sacæ, or Scythians. They pressed on with the rest, and became apparently most formidable during the first four centuries of the Christian Era. It was apparently their defeat by the great Vicramaditya in the battle at Korûr, on the banks of the Indus, A.D. 524 or 544, that raised the popularity of that monarch to its highest pitch, and induced the Hindus at a subsequent age to institute the era known by his name 600 years before his time, and another called by his other name, Sri Harsha, 1000 years before the date of the battle of Korûr.[28]

Another important horde were the Ephthalites, or White Huns, who came into India apparently in the 4th century, and one of whose kings, if we may trust Cosmas Indicopleustes, was the head of a powerful state in northern India, about the year 535. They, too, seem to have been conquered about the same time by the Hindus, and, as both the Sakas and Hunas were undoubtedly Buddhists, it may have been their destruction that first weakened the cause of that religion, and which led to its ultimate defeat a little more than a century afterwards.

During the dark ages, 750 to 950, we do not know of any horde passing the Indus. The Mahomedans were probably too strong on{29} the frontier to admit of its being done, and after that age they—and they only—conducted the various invasions which completely changed the face and character of northern India. For seven centuries they were continued, with only occasional interruptions, and at last resulted in placing the Mahomedan power supreme, practically, over the whole of India, but only to fall to pieces like a house of cards, before the touch of Western civilisation. All this, however, is written, and written so distinctly, in so many books, that it need not be recapitulated here.

Southern India.

If the records of the ancient history of northern India are unsatisfactory and untrustworthy, those of the southern part of the peninsula are at least ten times more so. The Dravidians have no ancient literature like that of the Vedas. They have no traditions which point to any seat of their race out of India, or of their having migrated from any country with whose inhabitants they can claim any kindred. So far as they know, they are indigenous and aboriginal. The utmost extent to which even their traditions extend is to claim for their leading race of kings—the Pandyas—a descent from Arjuna, one of the heroes of the ‘Mahabharata.’ He, it is said, when on his travels, married a princess of the land, and she gave birth to the eponymous hero of their race, and hence their name. It is true, indeed, that they produce long lists of kings, which they pretend stretch back till the times of the Pandus. These were examined by the late Professor Wilson in 1836, and he conjectured that they might extend back to the 5th or 6th century before our era.[29] But all that has since come to light has tended to show that even this may be an over-estimate of their antiquity. If, however, as Dr. Kern believes, the Choda, Pada, and Keralaputra of the second edict of Asoka do really represent the Cholas, Pandyas, Cheras, of modern times, this triarchy existed in the third century B.C.; but there are difficulties in the way of this identification which have not yet been removed. In fact, all we really do know is that, in classical times, there was a Regio Pandionis in the country afterwards known as the Pandyan kingdom of Madura, and it has been conjectured that the king who sent an embassy to Augustus in 27 B.C.[30] was not a Porus, which would indicate a northern race, but this very king of the south. Be{30} this, however, as it may, we do know, by the frequent mention of this country by classical authors, that it was at least sufficiently civilised in the early centuries of our era to carry on a considerable amount of commerce with the western nations, and there is consequently no improbability that at least one powerful dynasty may then have been established in the south. If so, that dynasty was certainly the Pandyan. The Chola and the Chera became important states only at a much later date.

When we turn to their literature we find nothing to encourage any hope that we may penetrate further back into their history than we have hitherto been able to do. Dr. Caldwell, the best and latest authority on the subject, ascribes the oldest work in the Tamil, or any southern language, to the 8th or 9th century of our era,[31] and that even then can hardly be called native, as it undoubtedly belongs to the Jains, who are as certainly a northern sect. According to the same authority, it was superseded by a Vaishnava literature about the 12th or 13th century, and that again made way for one of Saiva tendency about the latter date. There is no trace of any Buddhist literature in the south, and nothing, consequently, that would enable us to connect the history of the south with the tolerably well-ascertained chronology of Ceylon or Northern India, nor am I aware of the existence of any ancient Buddhist monuments in the south which would help us in this difficulty.[32]

Not having passed through Bactria, or having lived in contact with any people making or using coins, the Dravidians have none of their own, and consequently that source of information is not available. Whatever hoards of ancient coins have been found in the Madras Presidency have been of purely Roman origin, brought there for the purpose of trade, and buried to protect them from spoliation.

The inscriptions, which are literally innumerable all over the Presidency, are the one source from which we can hope that new light may be thrown on the history of the country, but none of those hitherto brought to light go further back than the 5th or 6th century, and it is not clear that earlier ones may be found.[33] It is, at all events, the most hopeful field that lies open to future explorers in these dark domains. There is nothing, however, that would lead us to expect to find any Tamil or native inscription in the country extending so far{31} back as the age of Constantine. Those on the raths at Mahavellipore, or the caves at Badami, which may be as old as the age of Justinian, are in Sanscrit, and consequently look more like an evidence of the northern races pushing southward than of the southern races extending themselves northward, or being sufficiently advanced in civilisation to erect for themselves the monuments on which these inscriptions are found.

From a study of the architecture of the south we arrive at precisely the same conclusions as to the antiquity of Dravidian civilisation that Dr. Caldwell arrived at from a study of their literature. The only important Buddhist monument yet discovered in the Presidency is that at Amravati, on the Kistnah,[34] but that is avowedly a foreign intrusion. It was a colony or settlement formed by the northern Buddhists at or near their port of departure for Java and their eastern settlements. The rock-cut temples at Mahavellipore and Badami seem to be the works of northern Hindus advancing southward in the 5th or 6th century, and engraving the evidence of their religion on the imperishable rock. So far as is yet known, no indigenous native temple has been brought to light, built by any native king, or with inscriptions in any southern tongue, whose date can be carried further back than the 8th century. From that time forward their building activity was enormous. The style culminated in the 16th and 17th centuries, to perish in the 18th, under the influence of a foreign and unsympathetic invader. It is, however, by no means impossible that future investigation may enable us to fill up a portion at least of the gap that exists between the 5th and the 8th century. There may be buildings yet undescribed which are older than any we now know. But if they do carry us back to the 5th century, which is more than can reasonably be expected, they are still seven or eight centuries behind what we know for certainty to have existed in the north. There we have buildings and caves certainly, extending back to B.C. 250, and it seems by no means impossible that with sculptures, coins, and inscriptions, and written documents, we may some day be able to bridge over the gulf that exists between the death of Buddha and the accession of the Mauryas. In other words, the materials for history in the North of India carry us back with the same relative degree of certainty for more than a thousand years beyond what those found in the south enable us to trace of her history or her arts.{32}

When the history of the south does acquire something like consistency it takes the form of a triarchy of small states. The eldest and most important, that of Mádura—so called after Muttra on the Jumna—was also the most civilised, and continued longest as a united and independent kingdom.

The Chola rose into power on the banks of the Cauvery, and to the northward of it, about the year 1000, though no doubt they existed as a small state about Conjeveram for some centuries before that time. The third, the Chera, were located in the southern Mysore country, and probably extending to the coast as early as the 4th or 5th century, and gradually worked their way northward, and became so powerful that there is reason for believing that during the dark ages of the north (750 to 950) their power extended to the Nerbudda, and it may be to them that we owe the Kylas and other excavations at Ellora, erected in the southern style about that time. They were, however, superseded, first by the Cholas, about A.D. 1000, and finally eclipsed by the Hoisala Bellalas, a century or so afterwards. These last became the paramount power in the south, till their capital—Hullabîd—was taken, and their dynasty destroyed by the Mahomedan, in the year 1310.

With the appearance of the Mahomedans on the scene the difficulties of Indian chronology disappear in the south, as well as in the north. From that time forward the history of India is found in such works as those written by Ferishta or Abul Fazl, and has been abstracted and condensed in numerous works in almost every European language. There are still, it must be confessed, slight discrepancies and difficulties about the sequence of some events in the history of the native principalities. These, however, are not of such importance as at all to affect, much less to invalidate, any reasoning that may be put forward regarding the history or affinities of any buildings, and this is the class of evidence which principally concerns what is written in the following pages.

Sculptures.

In order to render the subject treated of in the following pages quite complete, it ought, no doubt, to be preceded by an introduction describing first the sculpture and then the mythology of the Hindus in so far as they are at present known to us. There are in fact few works connected with this subject more wanted at the present day than a good treatise on these subjects. When Major Moor published the ‘Hindu Pantheon’ in 1810, the subject was comparatively new, and the materials did not exist in this country for a full and satisfactory illustration of it in all its branches. When, in 1832, Coleman published his ‘Mythology of the Hindus,’ he was enabled from the{33} more recent researches of Colebroke and Wilson, to improve the text considerably, but his illustrations are very inferior to those of his predecessor. Moor chose his from such bronzes or marbles as existed in our museums. Coleman’s were generally taken from modern drawings, or the tawdry plaster images made for the Durga puja of Bengali Babus. By the aid of photography any one now attempting the task would be able to select perfectly authentic examples from Hindu temples of the best age. If this were done judiciously, and the examples carefully engraved, it would not only afford a more satisfactory illustration of the mythology of the Hindus than has yet been given to the public, but it might also be made a history of the art of sculpture in India, in all the ages in which it is known to us. It is doubtful, however, whether such a work could be successfully carried through in this country at the present day. The photographs that exist of the various deities have generally been taken representing them only as they appear as ornaments of the temples, without special reference to their mythological character. They are sufficient to show what the sculptor intended, but not so detailed as to allow all their emblems or characteristics being distinctly perceived. To be satisfactory as illustrations of the mythology, it is indispensable that these points should all be made clear. At the same time it is to be feared that there is hardly any one in this country so familiar with all the details of emblems and symbols as to be able to give the exact meaning of all that is represented. It would require the assistance of some Pandit brought up in the faith, and who is familiar with the significance of all the emblems, to convey to others the true meaning of these innumerable carvings. In India it could easily be accomplished, and it is consequently hoped it may before long be attempted there.

From its very nature, it is evident that sculpture can hardly ever be so important as architecture as an illustration of the progress of the arts, or the affinities of nations. Tied down to the reproduction of the immutable human figure, sculpture hardly admits of the same variety, or the same development, as such an art as architecture, whose business it is to administer to all the varied wants of mankind and to express the multifarious aspirations of the human mind. Yet sculpture has a history, and one that can at times convey its meaning with considerable distinctness. No one, for instance, can take up such a book as that of Cicognara,[35] and follow the gradual development of the art as he describes it, from the first rude carvings of the Byzantine school, till it returned in the present day to the mechanical perfection of the old Greek art, though without its ennobling spirit, and not{34} feel that he has before him a fairly distinct illustration of the progress of the human mind during that period. Sculpture in India may fairly claim to rank, in power of expression, with mediæval sculpture in Europe, and to tell its tale of rise and decay with equal distinctness; but it is also interesting as having that curious Indian peculiarity of being written in decay. The story that Cicognara tells is one of steady forward progress towards higher aims and better execution. The Indian story is that of backward decline, from the sculptures of the Bharhut and Amravati topes, to the illustrations of Coleman’s ‘Hindu Mythology.’

When Hindu sculpture first dawns upon us in the rails at Buddh Gaya, and Bharhut, B.C. 200 to 250, it is thoroughly original, absolutely without a trace of foreign influence, but quite capable of expressing its ideas, and of telling its story with a distinctness that never was surpassed, at least in India. Some animals, such as elephants, deer, and monkeys, are better represented there than in any sculptures known in any part of the world; so, too, are some trees, and the architectural details are cut with an elegance and precision which are very admirable. The human figures, too, though very different from our standard of beauty and grace, are truthful to nature, and, where grouped together, combine to express the action intended with singular felicity. For an honest purpose-like pre-Raphaelite kind of art, there is probably nothing much better to be found elsewhere.

The art certainly had declined when the gateways at Sanchi were executed in the first century of the Christian Era. They may then have gained a little in breadth of treatment, but it had certainly lost much in delicacy and precision. Its downward progress was then, however, arrested, apparently by the rise in the extreme north-west of India of a school of sculpture strongly impregnated with the traditions of classical art. It is not yet clear whether this arose from a school of art implanted in that land by the Bactrian Greeks, or whether it was maintained by direct intercourse with Rome and Byzantium during the early centuries of the Christian Era. Probably both causes acted simultaneously, and one day we may be able to discriminate what is due to each. For the present it is sufficient to know that a quasi-classical school of sculpture did exist in the Punjab, and to the west of the Indus during the first five centuries after Christ, and it can hardly have flourished there so long, without its presence being felt in India.

Its effects were certainly apparent at Amravati in the 4th and 5th centuries, where a school of sculpture was developed, partaking of the characteristics of both those of Central India and of the west. Though it may, in some respects, be inferior to either of the parent styles, the degree of perfection reached by the art of sculpture at{35} Amravati may probably be considered as the culminating point attained by that art in India.

When we meet it again in the early Hindu temples, and later Buddhist caves, it has lost much of its higher æsthetic and phonetic qualities, and frequently resorts to such expedients as giving dignity to the principal personages by making them double the size of less important characters, and of distinguishing gods from men by giving them more heads and arms than mortal man can use or understand.

All this is developed, it must be confessed, with considerable vigour and richness of effect in the temples of Orissa and the Mysore, down to the 13th or 14th century. After that, in the north it was checked by the presence of the Moslems; but, in the south, some of the most remarkable groups and statues—and they are very remarkable—were executed after this time, and continued to be executed, in considerable perfection down to the middle of the last century.

As we shall see in the sequel, the art of architecture continues to be practised with considerable success in parts of India remote from European influence; so much so, that it requires a practised eye to discriminate between what is new and what is old. But the moment any figures are introduced, especially if in action, the illusion vanishes. No mistake is then possible, for the veriest novice can see how painfully low the art of sculpture has fallen. Were it not for this, some of the modern temples in Gujerat and Central India are worthy to rank with those of past centuries; but their paintings and their sculptured decorations excite only feelings of dismay, and lead one to despair of true art being ever again revived in the East.

To those who are familiar with the principles on which these arts are practised, the cause of this difference is obvious enough. Architecture being a technic art, its forms may be handed down traditionally, and its principles practised almost mechanically. The higher phonetic arts, however, of sculpture and painting admit of no such mechanical treatment. They require individual excellence, and a higher class of intellectual power of expression, to ensure their successful development. Architecture, may, consequently, linger on amidst much political decay; but, like literature, the phonetic arts can only be successfully cultivated where a higher moral and intellectual standard prevails than, it is feared, is at present to be found in India.

Mythology.

Whenever any one will seriously undertake to write the history of sculpture in India, he will find the materials abundant and the sequence by no means difficult to follow; but, with regard to mythology, the case is different. It cannot, however, be said that the materials are not abundant for this branch of the inquiry also; but{36} they are of a much less tangible or satisfactory nature, and have become so entangled, that it is extremely difficult to obtain any clear ideas regarding them; and it is to be feared they must remain so, until those who investigate the subject will condescend to study the architecture and the sculpture of the country as well as its books. The latter contain a good deal, but they do not contain all the information available on the subject, and they require to be steadied and confirmed by what is built or carved, which alone can give precision and substance to what is written.

Much of the confusion of ideas that prevails on this subject no doubt arises from the exaggerated importance it has of late years been the fashion to ascribe to the Vedas, as explaining everything connected with the mythology of the Hindus. It would, indeed, be impossible to over-estimate the value of these writings from a philological or ethnological point of view. Their discovery and elaboration have revolutionised our ideas as to the migrations of races in the remote ages of antiquity, and establish the affiliation of the Aryan races on a basis that seems absolutely unassailable; but it cannot be too strongly insisted upon that the Aryans are a race of strangers in India, distinct from the Indian people themselves. They may, as hinted above, have come into India some three thousand years before Christ, and may have retained their purity of blood and faith for two thousand years; but with the beginning of the political Kali Yug—or, to speak more correctly, at the time of the events detailed in the ‘Mahabharata,’ say 1200 years B.C.—they had lost much of both; while every successive wave of immigration that has crossed the Indus during the last three thousand years has impaired the purity of their race. From this cause, and from their admixture with the aborigines, it may probably be with confidence asserted that there is not now five per cent.—perhaps not one—of pure Aryan blood in the present population of India, nor, consequently, does the religion of the Vedas constitute one-twentieth part of the present religion of the people.

Though this may be absolutely so, it must not be overlooked that there are few things more remarkable, as bearing on this subject, than the extraordinary intellectual superiority of the Aryans over the Dasyus, or whatever we may call the people they found in India when they entered it. This superiority was sufficient to enable them to subdue the country, though they were probably infinitely inferior in numbers to the conquered people, and to retain them in subjection through long ages of time. Even now, when their purity of blood has become so diluted that they are almost lost among the people, their intellect, as embalmed in their writings, has left its impress on every corner of the land, and is still appealed to as a revelation of the will of God to man.

With the Vedas, however, we have very little to do in the present{37} work. The worship they foreshadow is of a class too purely intellectual to require the assistance of the stonemason and the carver to give it expression. The worship of the Aryans was addressed to the sun and moon. The firmament and all its hosts; the rain-bearing cloud; the sun-ushering dawn; all that was beautiful in the heavens above or beneficent on earth, was sung by them in hymns of elevated praise, and addressed in terms of awe or endearment as fear or hope prevailed in the bosom of the worshipper.[36] Had this gone on for some time longer than it did, the objects worshipped by the Aryans in India might have become gods, like those of Greece and Rome, endowed with all the feelings and all the failings of humanity. In India it was otherwise; the deities were dethroned, but never were degraded. There is no trace in Vedic times, so far as at present known, of Indra or Varuna, of Agni or Ushas, being represented in wood or stone, or of their requiring houses or temples to shelter them. It is true indeed that the terms of endearment in which they are addressed are frequently such as mortals use in speaking of each other; but how otherwise can man express his feeling of love or fear, or address his supplication to the being whose assistance he implores?

The great beauty of the Veda is, that it stops short before the powers of nature are dwarfed into human forms, and when every man stood independently by himself and sought through the intervention of all that was great or glorious on the earth, or in the skies, to approach the great spirit that is beyond and above all created things.

Had the Aryans ever been a numerical majority in India, and consequently able to preserve their blood and caste in tolerable purity, the religion of India never could have sunk so low as it did, though it might have fallen below the standard of the Veda. What really destroyed it was, that each succeeding immigration of less pure Aryan or Turanian races rendered their numerical majority relatively less and less, while their inevitable influence so educated the subject races as to render their moral majority even less important. These processes went on steadily and uninterruptedly till, in the time of Buddha, the native religions rose fairly to an equality with that of the Aryans, and afterwards for a while eclipsed it. The Vedas were only ultimately saved from absolute annihilation in India, by being embedded in the Vaishnava and Saiva superstitions, where their inanimate forms may still be recognised, but painfully degraded from their primitive elevation.

When we turn from the Vedas, and try to investigate the origin of those religions that first opposed and finally absorbed the Vedas in their abominations, we find our means of information painfully scanty{38} and unsatisfactory. As will appear in the sequel, all that was written in India that is worth reading was written by the Aryans; all that was built was built by the Turanians, who wrote practically nothing. But the known buildings extend back only to the 3rd century B.C., while the books are ten centuries earlier, or possibly even more than that, while, as might be expected, it is only accidentally and in the most contemptuous terms that the proud Aryans even allude to the abject Dasyus or their religion. What, therefore, we practically know of them is little more than inferences drawn from results, and from what we now see passing in India.

Notwithstanding the admitted imperfection of materials, it seems to be becoming every day more and more evident, that we have in the north of India one great group of native or at least of Turanian religions, which we know in their latest developments as the Buddhist, Jaina, and Yaishnava religions. The first named we only know as it was taught by Sakya Muni before his death in 543 B.C., but no one I presume supposes that he was the first to invent that form of faith, or that it was not based on some preceding forms. The Buddhists themselves, according to the shortest calculation, admit of four preceding Buddhas—according to the more usual accounts, of twenty-four. A place is assigned to each of these, where he was born, and when he died, the father and mother’s name is recorded, and the name, too, of the Bodhi-tree under whose shade he attained Buddhahood. The dates assigned to each of these are childishly fabulous, but there seems no reason for doubting that they may have been real personages, and their dates extend back to a very remote antiquity.[37]

The Jains, in like manner, claim the existence of twenty-four Tirthankars, including Mahavira the last. Their places of birth and death are equally recorded, all are in northern India, and though little else is known of them, they too may have existed. The series ends with Mahavira, who was the contemporary—some say the preceptor—of Sakya Muni.

The Vaishnava series is shorter, consisting of only nine Avatars, but it too, closes at the same time, Buddha himself being the ninth and last. Its fifth Avatur takes us back to Rama, who, if our chronology is correct, may have lived B.C. 2000; the fourth,—Narasinha, or man lion—points to the time the Aryans entered India. The three first deal with creation and events anterior to man’s appearance on earth. In this respect the Vaishnava list differs from the other two.{39} They only record the existence of men who attained greatness by the practice of virtue, and immortality by teaching the ways of God to man. The Vaishnavas brought God to earth, to mix and interfere in mundane affairs in a manner that neither the Aryan nor the Buddhist ever dreamt of, and so degraded the purer religion of India into the monstrous system of idolatry that now prevails in that country.

No attempt, so far as I know, has been made to explain the origin of the Saiva religion, or even to ascertain whether it was a purely local superstition, or whether it was imported from abroad. The earliest authentic written allusion to it seems to be that of the Indian ambassador to Bardasanes (A.D. 218, 222), who described a cave in the north of India which contained an image of a god, half-man, half-woman.[38] This is beyond doubt the Ardhanari form of Siva, so familiar afterwards at Elephanta and in every part of India. The earliest engraved representations of this god seem to be those on the coins of Kadphises (B.C. 80 to 100[39]), where the figure with the trident and the Bull certainly prefigure the principal personage in this religion. Curiously enough, however, he or she is always accompanied by the Buddhist trisul emblem, as if the king, or his subjects at least, simultaneously professed both religions. Besides all this, it seems now tolerably well ascertained, that the practice of endowing gods with an infinity of limbs took an earlier, certainly a greater development in Thibet and the trans-Himalayan countries than in India, and that the wildest Tantric forms of Durga are more common and more developed in Nepal and Thibet than they are even in India Proper. If this is so, it seems pretty clear, as the evidence now stands, that Saivism is a northern superstition introduced into India by the Yuechi or some of the northern hordes who migrated into India, either immediately before the Christian Era, or in the early centuries succeeding it.

It does not seem at first to have made much progress in the valley of the Ganges, where the ground was preoccupied by the Vaishnava group, but to have been generally adopted in Rajputana, especially among the Jats, who were almost certainly the descendants of the White Huns or Ephthalites, and it seems also to have been early carried south by the Brahmans, when they undertook to instruct the Dravidians in the religion of the Puranas. That of the Vedas never seems to have been known in the south, and it was not till after the Vedas had been superseded by the new system, that the Brahmanical religion was introduced among the southern people. It is also, it is to be feared, only too true that no attempt has yet been made to ascertain what the religion of the Dravidians was before the northern Brahmans induced them to adopt either the Jaina or the{40} Vaishnava or Saiva forms of faith. It is possible that among the Pandu Kolis, and other forms of ‘Rude Stone Monuments’ that are found everywhere in the south, we may find the fossil remains of the old Dravidian faith before they adopted that of the Hindus. These monuments, however, have not been examined with anything like the care requisite for the solution of a problem like this, and till it is done we must rest content with our ignorance.[40]

In the north we have been somewhat more fortunate, and enough is now known to make it clear that, so soon as the inquirers can consent to put aside personal jealousies, and apply themselves earnestly to the task, we may know enough to make the general outline at least tolerably clear. When I first published my work on ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ seven years ago, no one suspected, at least no one had hinted in type, that such a form of religion existed in Bengal. Since that time, however, so much has been written on the subject, and proof on proof has accumulated with such rapidity, that few will now be bold enough to deny that Trees were worshipped in India in the earliest times, and that a Naga people did exist, especially in the north-west, who had a strange veneration for snakes. It may be too bold a generalisation to assert, at present, that no people became Buddhists who had not previously been serpent worshippers, but it certainly is nearer the truth than at first sight appears. It is, at all events, quite certain that underlying Buddhism we everywhere find evidence of a stratum of Tree and Serpent Worship. Sometimes it may be repressed and obscured, but at others it crops up again, and, to a certain extent, the worship of the Tree and the Serpent, at some times and in certain places, almost supersedes that of the founder of the religion himself.

The five, or seven, or one thousand-headed Naga is everywhere present in the temples of the Jains, and pervades the whole religion of the Vaishnavas. In the great act of creation the Naga performs the principal part in the churning of the ocean, and in almost every representation of Vishnu he appears either as supporting and watching over him, or as performing some subsidiary part in the scene. It is, in fact, the Naga that binds together and gives unity to this great group of religions, and it is the presence of the Tree and Serpent worship underlying Buddhism, Jainism, and Vishnuism that seems to prove almost incontestably that there existed a people in the north of India, whether we call them Dasyus, Nishadhas, or by any other name, who were Tree and Serpent worshippers, before they{41} adopted any of the Hindu forms of faith. Nothing can be more antagonistic to the thoughts and feelings of any Aryan race than such forms of worship, and nothing more completely ante-Vedic than its rites. It seems also to have no connection with Saivism.[41] Nor is there any trace of it found among the Dravidians. There appears, in fact, no solution of the riddle possible, but to assume that it was an aboriginal superstition in the north of India, and it was the conversion of the people to whom it belonged that gave rise to that triarchy of religions that have succeeded each other in the north during the last two thousand years.

This solution of the difficulty has the further advantage that it steps in at once clearly to explain what philology is only dimly guessing at, though its whole tendency now seems in the same direction. If this view of the mythology be correct, it seems certain that there existed in the north of India, before the arrival of the Aryans, a people whose affinities were all with the Thibetans, Burmese, Siamese, and other trans-Himalayan populations, and who certainly were not Dravidians, though they may have been intimately connected with one division at least of the inhabitants of Ceylon.

Both the pre-Aryan races of India belonged, of course, to the Turanian group; but my present impression is, as hinted above, that the Dravidians belong to that branch of the great primordial family of mankind that was developed in Mesopotamia and the countries to the westward of the Caspian. The Dasyus, on the contrary, have all their affinities with those to the eastward of that sea, and the two might consequently be called the Western and the Eastern, or the Scythian and Mongolian Turanians. Such a distinction would certainly represent our present knowledge of the subject better than considering the whole as one family, which is too often the case at the present day.

These, however, are speculations which hardly admit of proof in the present state of our knowledge, and would consequently be quite out of place here, were it not that some such theory seems indispensable to explain the phenomena of the architectural history of India. That of the north is so essentially different from that of the south that they cannot possibly belong to the same people. Neither of them certainly are Aryan; and unless we admit that the two divisions of the country{42} were occupied by people essentially different in blood, though still belonging to the building races of mankind, we cannot possibly understand how they always practised, and to the present employ, styles so essentially different. Until these various ethnographical and mythological problems are understood and appreciated, the styles of architecture in India seem a chaos without purpose or meaning. Once, however, they are grasped and applied, their history assumes a dignity and importance far greater than is due to any merely æsthetic merits they may possess. Even that, however, is in many respects remarkable, and, when combined with the scientific value of the styles, seem to render them as worthy of study as those of any other people with whose arts we are acquainted.

Statistics.

It would add very much to the clearness of what follows if it were possible to compile any statistical tables which would represent with anything like precision the mode in which the people of India are distributed, either as regards their religious beliefs or their ethnographical relations. The late census of 1871-72 has afforded a mass of new material for this purpose, but the information is distributed through five folio volumes, in such a manner as to make it extremely difficult to abstract what is wanted so as to render it intelligible to the general reader. Even, however, if this were done, the result would hardly, for several reasons, be satisfactory. In the first place, the census is a first attempt, and the difficulty of collecting and arranging such a mass of new materials was a task of the extremest difficulty. The fault of any shortcomings, however, lay more with the enumerated than with the enumerators. Few natives know anything of ethnography, or can give a distinct answer with regard to their race or descent; and even with regard to religion their notions are equally hazy. Take for instance the table, page 93 of the Bombay Report. The compilers there divide the Hindus of that Presidency into three classes:—

3,465,349 | Saivas.
1,419,233 | Vaishnavas.
8,029,989 | Mixed.
12,914,571 |

The mixed class they proceed to define as “all who simply worship some god or goddess, without knowing anything of theology”—a description that probably applies with equal truth to two-thirds of the Hindu population of the other presidencies. The upper and educated classes do know now what sect they belong to, and the sects{43} are so distinctly marked as to admit of no doubt; but even that was not so clear in former days.

The great defect, however, of the census is, that it does not include the population of the Native States, estimated at 46,245,000, or one-fifth of the whole population of India; and, though it may be fair to assume that the proportions of races and their beliefs are the same as those of the adjacent states under British rule, this is only an assumption, and as such must vitiate any attempt at precision in statements regarding the whole of India.

Notwithstanding these difficulties or defects, it may be useful to state here that the population of the whole of India—exclusive, of course, of British Burmah—was ascertained by the late census to amount to 235,000,000 of souls. Of these, about 7-10ths—or, more nearly, 15-20ths—or 175,000,000, belonged to the various branches of the Hindu religion; more than 1-5th or 4-20ths or 50,000,000, professed the Mahomedan faith; and the remaining 1-20th was made up principally of the uncivilised hill tribes, and various minor sects which cannot correctly be classified with the followers of Siva and Vishnu. In this last group of 11,000,000 are the Jains and the Christians, who, though so influential from their wealth or intellect, form numerically but a very small fraction of the entire population.

The tables of the census, unfortunately, afford us very little information that is satisfactory with regard to the distribution of races among the people. From the new edition of Caldwell’s ‘Dravidian Grammar,’ we learn that upwards of 45,000,000 are Dravidian or speak Tamil, or languages allied to that dialect.[42] This may be somewhat of an over-estimate, but, taking it as it stands, it accounts for only 1-5th of the population; and what are we to say regarding the other 4-5ths, or 190,000,000 of souls? Four or five millions may be put on one side as Koles, Bhîls, Sontals, Nagas, &c.—hill tribes of various classes, whose affinities are not yet by any means settled, but whose ethnic relations are of very minor importance compared with those of the 185,000,000 remaining.

As the census leaves us very much in the dark on this subject, supposing we assume that one-half, or 90,000,000 more or less, of the inhabitants of northern India are the descendants of the original inhabitants of the country—Dasyus, Nishadhas, or whatever we may call them. Let us further divide the remaining 90,000,000 into three parts, and assume that one-third are lineal descendants of the Aryans who entered India before the time of Buddha; one-third the descendants of Yavanas, Sakas, Hunas, and other Scythian tribes who crossed the Indus between the Christian Era and the time of the{44} Mahomedan invasion; and that the remainder are the Moslem races, or their descendants, who have entered India during the last 800 years. Such a scheme may nearly represent the facts of the case; but it seems almost certainly to exaggerate the importance of the foreign immigrant element. Taking, for instance, the last, about which we know most, it seems hardly probable that since the time of Mahmood of Guzni any such number of tribes professing the Mahomedan religion could have entered India so as to be able to procreate a population of 30,000,000 of souls, even supposing they had brought their women with them—which they certainly did not, except in the most exceptional cases. Two or three millions of warriors may have crossed the Indus in that time and settled in India, and, marrying the females of the country, may have had a numerous progeny; but thirty millions is a vast population by direct descent, especially as we know how many of the Moslems of India were recruited from slaves purchased and brought up in the faith of their masters. In Bengal especially, where they are most numerous, they are Bengalis pure and simple, many, perhaps most, of whom have adopted that faith quite recently from motives it is not difficult to understand or explain. Though there may consequently be 50,000,000 of Mussulmans in India at the present day, we may feel quite certain that not one-half of this number are immigrants or the descendants of emigrants who entered India during the last eight centuries.

The same is probably true of the Turanian races, who entered India in the first ten centuries after our era. It is most improbable that they were sufficiently numerous to be the progenitors of thirty millions of people, and, if they were so, the mothers, in nine cases out of ten, were most probably natives of India.

Of the Aryans we know less; but, if so great a number as thirty millions can trace anything like a direct descent from them at the present day, the amount of pure Aryan blood in their veins must be infinitesimally small. But, though their blood may be diluted, the influence of their intellect remains so powerfully impressed on every institution of the country that, had they perished altogether, their previous presence is still an element of the utmost importance in the ethnic relations of the land.

Another census may enable us to speak with more precision with regard to these various divisions of the mass of the people of Hindustan, but meanwhile the element that seems to be most important, though the least investigated hitherto, is the extent of the aboriginal race. It has hitherto been so overlooked, that putting it at ninety millions may seem to many an exaggeration. Its intellectual inferiority has kept it in the background, but its presence everywhere seems to me the only means of explaining most of the phenomena we{45} meet continually, especially those connected with the history of the architecture of the country. Except on some such hypothesis as that just shadowed forth, I do not know how we are to account for the presence of certain local forms of buildings we find in the north, or to explain the persistence with which they were adhered to.

When from these purely ethnographic speculations we turn to ask how far religion and race coincide, we are left with still less information of a reliable character. As a rule, the Dravidians are Saiva, and Saiva in the exact proportion of the purity of their blood. In other words, in the extreme south of India they are immensely in the majority. In Tanjore, 7 to 1 of the followers of Vishnu; in Mádura, 5 to 1; in Trichinopoly, 4 to 1; and Salem, and generally in the south, 2 to 1;[43] but as we proceed northward they become equal, and in some of the northern districts of the Madras Presidency the proportions are reversed.

In Bengal, and wherever Buddhism once prevailed, the Vaishnava sects are, as might be expected, the most numerous. Indeed if it were not that so much of the present Hindu religion is an importation into the south, and was taught to the Dravidians by Brahmans from the north, it would be difficult to understand how the Vaishnava religion ever took root there, where Buddhism itself only existed to a slight extent, and where it, too, was an importation. If, however, it is correct to assume that Saivism had its origin to the northward of the Himalayas, among the Tartar tribes of these regions, there is no difficulty in understanding its presence in Bengal to the extent to which it is found to prevail there. But, on the other hand, nothing can be more natural than that an aboriginal Naga people, who worshipped trees and serpents, should become Buddhists, as Buddhism was originally understood, and, being Buddhists, should slide downwards into the corruptions of the present Vaishnava form of faith, which is avowedly that most fashionable and most prevalent in the north of India.

One of the most startling facts brought out by the last census, is the discovery that nearly one-third of the population of Eastern Bengal are Mahomedan—20,500,000 out of 66,000,000—while in the north-west provinces the Mahomedans are less than 1-6th—4,000,000 among 25,000,000; and in Oude little more than 1-10th. It thus looks more like a matter of feeling than of race; it seems that as the inhabitants of Bengal were Buddhists, and clung to that faith long after it had been abolished in other parts of India, they came in contact with the Moslem religion before they had adopted the modern form of Vishnuism, and naturally preferred a faith which acknowledged no caste, and freed them from the exactions and{46} tyranny of a dominant priesthood. The Mahomedan religion is in fact much more like Buddhism than are any of the modern Hindu forms, and when this non-Aryan casteless population came in contact with it, before they had adopted the new faith, and were free to choose, after the mysterious evaporation of their old beliefs, they naturally adopted the religion most resembling that in which they had been brought up. It is only in this way that it seems possible to account for the predominance of the Moslem faith in Lower Bengal and in the Punjab, where the followers of the Prophet outnumber the Hindus, in the proportion of 3 to 2, or as 9,000,000 to 6,000,000.

Where Buddhism had prevailed the choice seemed to lie between Vishnu or Mahomet. Where Saivism crept in was apparently among those races who were Turanians, or had affinities with the Tartar races, who immigrated from the north between the Christian era, and the age of the Mahomedan conquest.

To most people these may appear as rash generalisations, and at the present stage of the inquiry would be so in reality, if no further proof could be afforded. After reading the following pages, I trust most of them at least will be found to rest on the firm basis of a fair induction from the facts brought forward. It might, consequently, have appeared more logical to defer these statements to the end of the work, instead of placing them at the beginning. Unless, however, they are read and mastered first, a great deal that is stated in the following pages will be unintelligible, and the scope and purpose of the work can be neither understood nor appreciated.

1. Naga people worshipping the Trisul emblem of Buddha, on a fiery pillar.
(From a bas-relief at Amravati.)

Map of

INDIA,

Showing the Principal

BUDDHIST & JAINA

LOCALITIES.

{47}

## BOOK I.
BUDDHIST ARCHITECTURE.

## CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION AND CLASSIFICATION.

It may create a feeling of disappointment in some minds when they are told that there is no stone architecture in India older than two and a half centuries before the Christian Era; but, on the other hand, it adds immensely to the clearness of what follows to be able to assert that India owes the introduction of the use of stone for architectural purposes, as she does that of Buddhism as a state religion, to the great Asoka, who reigned from B.C. 272 to 236.

It is not, of course, meant to insinuate that the people of India had no architecture before that date; on the contrary it can be proved that they possessed palaces and halls of assembly, perhaps even temples, of great magnificence and splendour, long anterior to Asoka’s accession; but, like the buildings of the Burmese at the present day, they were all in wood. Stone, in those days, seems to have been employed only for the foundations of buildings, or in engineering works, such as city walls and gates, or bridges or embankments; all else, as will appear from the sequel, were framed in carpentry. Much as we may now regret this, as all these buildings have consequently perished, it is not so clear, as it may at first appear, that the Indians were wrong in this, inasmuch as, in all respects, except durability, wood is a better building material than stone. It is far more easily cut and carved, larger spaces can be covered with fewer and less cumbrous points of support than is possible with stone, and colour and gilding are much more easily applied to wood than to stone. For the same outlay twice the space can be covered, and more than twice the splendour obtained by the use of the more perishable material, the one great defect being that it is ephemeral. It fails also in producing that impression of durability which is so essential to architectural effect; while, at the same time, the facility with which it can be carved and adorned tends to produce a barbaric splendour far less satisfactory than the more sober forms necessitated by the employment of the less tractable material.{48}

Be this as it may, it will, if I mistake not, become quite clear when we examine the earliest “rock-cut temples” that, whether from ignorance or from choice, the Indians employed wood, and that only in the construction of their ornamental buildings, before Asoka’s time.[44] From this the inference seems inevitable that it was in consequence of India being brought into contact with the western world, first by Alexander’s raid, and then by the establishment of the Bactrian kingdom in its immediate proximity, that led to this change. We do not yet know precisely how early the Bactrian kingdom extended to the Indus, but we feel its influence on the coinage, on the sculpture, and generally on the arts of India, from a very early date, and it seems as if before long we shall be able to fix with precision not only the dates, but the forms in which the arts of the Western world exerted their influence on those of the East. This, however, will be made clearer in the sequel. In the meanwhile it may be sufficient to state here that we know absolutely nothing of the temples or architecture of the various peoples or religions who occupied India before the rise of Buddhism,[45] and it is only by inference that we know anything of that of the Buddhists before the age of Asoka. From that time forward, however, all is clear and intelligible; we have a sufficient number of examples whose dates and forms are known to enable us to write a perfectly consecutive history of the Buddhist style during the 1000 years it was practised in India, and thence to trace its various developments in the extra Indian countries to which it was carried, and where it is still practised at the present day.[46]

If our ethnography is not at fault, it would be in vain to look for any earlier architecture of any importance in India before Asoka’s time. The Aryans, who were the dominant people before the rise of{49} Buddhism, were essentially a non-artistic race. They wrote books and expressed their ideas in words like their congeners all the world over, but they nowhere seem successfully to have cultivated the æsthetic arts, or to have sought for immortality through the splendour or durability of their buildings. That was always the aspiration of the less intellectual Turanian races, and we owe it to this circumstance that we are enabled to write with such certainty the history of their rise and fall as evidenced in their architectural productions.

There is no à priori improbability that the Dravidian races of the south of India, or the indigenous races of the north, may not have erected temples or other buildings at a very early date, but if so, all that can be said is that all trace of them is lost. When we first meet the Buddhist style it is in its infancy—a wooden style painfully struggling into lithic forms—and we have no reason to suppose that the other styles were then more advanced. When, however, we first meet them, some six or seven centuries afterwards, they are so complete in all their details, and so truly lithic in their forms, that they have hitherto baffled all attempts to trace them back to their original types, either in the wood or brick work, from which they may have been derived. So completely, indeed, have all the earlier examples been obliterated, that it is now doubtful whether the missing links can ever be replaced. Still, as one single example of a Hindu temple dating before the Christian Era might solve the difficulty, we ought not to despair of such being found, while the central provinces of India remain so utterly unexplored as they now are. Where, under ordinary circumstances, we ought to look for them, would be among the ruins of the ancient cities which once crowded the valley of the Ganges; but there the ruthless Moslem or the careless Hindu have thoroughly obliterated all traces of any that may ever have existed. In the remote valleys of the Himalaya, or of Central India, there may, however, exist remains which will render the origin and progress of Hindu architecture as clear and as certain as that of the Buddhist; but till these are discovered, it is with the architecture of the Buddhist that our history naturally begins. Besides this, however, from the happy accident of the Buddhists very early adopting the mode of excavating their temples in the living rock, their remains are imperishably preserved to us, while it is only too probable that those of the Hindu, being in less durable forms, may have disappeared. The former, therefore, are easily classified and dated, while the origin of the latter, for the present, seems lost in the mist of the early ages of Indian arts. Meanwhile, the knowledge that the architectural history of India commences B.C. 250, and that all the monuments now known to us are Buddhist for at least five or six centuries after that time, are cardinal facts that cannot be too strongly insisted upon by{50} those who wish to clear away a great deal of what has hitherto tended to render the subject obscure and unintelligible.

Classification.

For convenience of description it will probably be found expedient to classify the various objects of Buddhist art under the five following groups, though of course it is at times impossible to separate them entirely from one another, and sometimes two or more of them must be taken together as parts of one monument.

1st. Stambhas, or Lâts.—These pillars are common to all the styles of Indian architecture. With the Buddhists they were employed to bear inscriptions on their shafts, with emblems or animals on their capitals. With the Jains they were generally Deepdans, or lamp-bearing pillars; with the Vaishnavas they as generally bore statues of Garuda or Hunaman; with the Saiva they were flag-staffs; but, whatever their destination, they were always among the most original, and frequently the most elegant, productions of Indian art.

2nd. Stupas, or Topes.—These, again, may be divided into two classes, according to their destination: first, the true Stupas or towers erected to commemorate some event or mark some sacred spot dear to the followers of the religion of Buddha: secondly, Dagobas, or monuments containing relics of Buddha, or of some Buddhist saint.[47] If it were possible, these two ought always to be kept separate, but no external signs have yet been discovered by which they can be distinguished from one another, and till this is so, they must be considered, architecturally at least, as one.

3rd. Rails.—These have recently been discovered to be one of the most important features of Buddhist architecture. Generally they are found surrounding Topes, but they are also represented as enclosing sacred trees, temples, and pillars, and other objects. It may be objected that treating them separately is like describing the peristyle of a Greek temple apart from the cella. The Buddhist rail, however, in early ages at least, is never attached to the tope, and is used for so many other, and such various purposes, that it will certainly tend to the clearness of what follows if they are treated separately.

4th. Chaityas,[48] or Assembly Halls.—These in Buddhist art cor{51}respond in every respect with the churches of the Christian religion. Their plans, the position of the altar or relic casket, the aisles, and other peculiarities are the same in both, and their uses are identical, in so far as the ritual forms of the one religion resemble those of the other.

5th. Viharas, or Monasteries.—Like the Chaityas, these resemble very closely the corresponding institutions among Christians. In the earlier ages they accompanied, but were detached from, the Chaityas or churches. In later times they were furnished with chapels and altars in which the service could be performed independently of the Chaitya halls, which may or may not be found in their proximity.

2. Sri seated on a Lotus, with two Elephants pouring water over her.
(From a modern sculpture from Indore.)

{52}

## CHAPTER II.
STAMBHAS OR LÂTS.

It is not clear whether we ought to claim a wooden origin for these, as we can for all the other objects of Buddhist architecture. Certain it is, however, that the lâts of Asoka, with shafts averaging twelve diameters in height, are much more like wooden posts than any forms derived from stone architecture, and in an age when wooden pillars were certainly employed to support the roofs of halls, it is much more likely that the same material should be employed for the purposes to which these stambhas were applied, than the more intractable material of stone.

The oldest authentic examples of these lâts that we are acquainted with, are those which King Asoka set up in the twenty-seventh year after his consecration—the thirty-first of his reign—to bear inscriptions conveying to his subjects the leading doctrines of the new faith he had adopted. The rock-cut edicts of the same king are dated in his twelfth year, and convey in a less condensed form the same information—Buddhism without Buddha—but inculcating respect to parents and priests, kindness and charity to all men, and, above all, tenderness towards animals.[49]

The best known of these lâts is that set up by Feroze Shah, in his Kotila at Delhi, without, however, his being in the least aware of the original purpose for which it was erected, or the contents of the inscription. A fragment of a second was recently found lying on{53}

3. Lât at Allahabad.

the ground near Hindu Rao’s house, north of Delhi.[50] Two others exist in Tirhoot at Radhia, and Mattiah, and a fragment of another was recognised utilised as a roller for the station roads, by an utilitarian member of the Bengal Civil Service. The most complete, however, is that which, in 1837, was found lying on the ground in the fort at Allahabad, and then re-erected with a pedestal, from a design by Captain Smith.[51] This pillar is more than usually interesting, as in addition to the Asoka inscriptions it contains one by Samudra Gupta (A.D. 380 to 400), detailing the glories of his reign, and the great deeds of his ancestors.[52] It seems again to have been thrown down, and was re-erected, as a Persian inscription tells us, by Jehangir (A.D. 1605), to commemorate his accession. It is represented without the pedestal (Woodcut No. 3). The shaft, it will be observed, is more than 3 ft. wide at the base, diminishing to 2 ft. 2 in. at the summit, which in a length of 33 ft.[53] looks more like the tapering of the stem of a tree—a deodar pine, for instance—than anything designed in stone. Like all the others of this class, this lât has lost its crowning ornament, which probably was a Buddhist emblem—a wheel or the trisul ornament[54]—but the necking still remains (Woodcut No. 4), and is almost a literal

4. Assyrian honeysuckle ornament from capital of Lât, at Allahabad.

copy of the honeysuckle ornament we are so familiar with as used by the Greeks with the Ionic order. In this instance, however, it is hardly probable that it was introduced direct by the Greeks, but is more likely to{54} have been borrowed from its native country Assyria, whence the Greeks also originally obtained it. The honeysuckle ornament, again, occurs as the crowning member of a pillar at Sankissa, in the Doab, half-way between Muttra and Canouge (Woodcut No. 5), and this time surmounting a capital of so essentially Persepolitan a type, that there can be little doubt that the design of the whole capital came from Central Asia. This pillar, which is of a much stouter and shorter proportion than the edict lâts, is surmounted by an elephant, but so mutilated that even in the 7th century the Chinese traveller Hiouen Thsang mistook it for a lion, if this is indeed the effigy he was looking at, as General Cunningham supposes,[55] which, however, is by no means so clear as might at first sight appear.

5. Capital at Sankissa. (From a Drawing by Gen. Cunningham.) | 6. Capital of Lât in Tirhoot. (From a Drawing by the late Capt. Kittoe.)

Another capital of a similar nature to that last described crowns a lât at Bettiah in Tirhoot—this time surmounted by a lion of bold and good design (Woodcut No. 6). In this instance, however, the honeysuckle ornament is replaced by the more purely Buddhist ornament of a flock of the sacred hansas or geese. In both instances there are cable ornaments used as neckings, and the bead and reel so familiar to the student of classical art. The last named form is also, however, found at Persepolis. These features it may be remarked are only found on the lâts of Asoka, and are never seen afterwards in India, though common in Gandhara and in the Indus for long afterwards, which seems a tolerably clear indication that it was from Persia, though probably on a suggestion from the Greeks, that he obtained those{55} hints which in India led to the conversion of wooden architecture into stone. After his death, these classical features disappear, and wooden forms resume their sway, though the Persian form of capital long retained its position in Indian art.

It is more than probable that each of these Asoka lâts stood in front of, or in connection with some stupa, or building of some sort; but all these have disappeared, and the lâts themselves have—some of them at least—been moved more than once, so that this cannot now be proved. So far, however, as can now be ascertained, one or two stambhas stood in front of, or beside each gateway of every great tope, and one or two in front of each chaitya hall. At least we know that six or seven can now be traced at Sanchi, and nearly an equal number at Amravati,[56] and in the representation of topes at the latter place, these lâts are frequently represented both outside and inside the rails.

At Karli, one still stands in front of the great cave surmounted by four lions, which, judging from analogy, once bore a chakra or wheel, probably in metal.[57] A corresponding pillar probably once stood on the opposite side of the entrance bearing some similar emblem. Two such are represented in these positions in front of the great cave at Kenheri, which is an exact but debased copy of the great Karli cave.[58]

The two lâts at Erun and the iron pillar at Delhi, though similar in many respects to those just described, seem certainly to belong to the era of the Guptas at the end of the fourth or the beginning of the fifth century of our era, and to be dedicated to the Vaishnava faith, and in consequence belong to a subsequent chapter. That at Pathari is not inscribed or is at least unedited, and though it looks old, may also be of the Gupta times.

This is a meagre account, it must be confessed, of Buddhist lâts, which probably at one time could be counted by hundreds in the important Buddhist localities in Bengal; but it is feared we shall hardly be able to add many more to our list. They are so easily overthrown and so readily utilised in populous localities, that all trace of most of them has probably been irrecoverably lost, though one or two more examples may probably be found in remote, out-of-the-way places.{56}

There is no instance, so far as I am aware, of a built monumental pillar now standing in India. This is sufficiently accounted for by the ease with which they could be thrown down and their materials removed, when they had lost the sanctity which alone protected them. There are, however, two such pillars among the topes of Cabul, and evidently coeval with them, now called the Surkh Minar (Woodcut No. 7), and the Minar Chakri. These are ascribed by the traditions of the place to Alexander the Great, though they are evidently Buddhist monuments, meant to mark some sacred spot, or to commemorate some event, the memory of which has passed away. There can be little doubt that their upper members are meant to be copies of the tall capitals of the Persepolitan pillars, which were probably common also in Assyria, and throughout this part of Asia, but their shape and outline exhibit great degeneracy from the purer forms with which that architecture commenced in India, and which were there retained in their purity to a much later period than in this remote province. No reliable data seem to exist for ascertaining what the age of these monuments may be. It probably was the third or fourth century of our era, or it may be even earlier.

7. Surkh Minar, Cabul.
(From a Drawing by Mr. Masson, in Wilson’s ‘Ariana Antiqua.’)

{57}

## CHAPTER III.
STUPAS.

CONTENTS.

Bhilsa Topes—Topes at Sarnath and in Behar—Amravati Tope—Gandhara Topes—Jelalabad Topes—Manikyala Tope.

There are few subjects of like nature that would better reward the labour of some competent student than an investigation into the origin of Relic Worship and its subsequent diffusion over the greater part of the old world. So far as is at present known, it did not exist in Egypt, nor in Greece or Rome in classical times, nor in Babylon or Assyria. In some of these countries the greatest possible respect was shown to the remains of departed greatness, and the bones and ashes of persons who were respected in life were preserved with care and affection; but there was no individual so respected that a hair of his head, a tooth, or a toe-nail, even a garment or a utensil he had used, was considered as a most precious treasure after his death. In none of these countries does it appear to have occurred to any one that a bone or the begging-pot of a deceased saint was a thing worth fighting for; or that honour done to such things was a meritorious act, and that prayers addressed to them were likely to be granted. Yet so ingrained do these sentiments appear to be among the followers of Buddha, that it is difficult to believe that the first occasion on which this sentiment arose, was at the distribution of his remains on his attaining Nirvana at Kusinagara, B.C. 543. On that occasion, eight cities or kingdoms are said to have contended for the honour of possessing his mortal remains, and the difficulty was met by assigning a portion to each of the contending parties, who are said to have erected stupas to contain them in each of their respective localities.[59] None of these can now be identified with certainty—everything in future ages being ascribed to Asoka, who, according to{58} popular tradition, is said to have erected the fabulous number of 84,000 relic shrines, or towers to mark sacred spots.[60] Some of these may be those we now see, or are encased within their domes; but if so, they, like everything else architectural in India, are the earliest things we find there. It is true, the great pagoda—the Shewé Dagon—at Rangoon is said to contain relics of all the four Buddhas of the present Kalpa, the staff of Kakasanda; the water-dipper of Konagamma; the bathing garment of Kasyapa, and eight hairs from the head of Gautama Buddha;[61] but supposing this to be true, we only now see the last and most modern, which covers over the older erections. This is at least the case with the great Dagoba at Bintenne, near Kandy, in Ceylon, in which the thorax-bone of the great ascetic lies enshrined. The ‘Mahawanso,’ or great Buddhist history of Ceylon, describes the mode in which this last building was raised, by successive additions, in a manner so illustrative of the principle on which these relic shrines arrived at completion, that it is well worth quoting:—“The chief of the Devos, Sumano, supplicated of the deity worthy of offerings for an offering. The Vanquisher, passing his hand over his head, bestowed on him a handful of his pure blue locks from the growing hair of the head. Receiving and depositing it in a superb golden casket, on the spot where the divine teacher had stood, he enshrined the lock in an emerald dagoba, and bowed down in worship.

“The thero Sarabhu, at the demise of the supreme Buddha, receiving at his funeral pile the Thorax-bone, brought and deposited it in that identical dagoba. This inspired personage caused a dagoba to be erected 12 cubits high to enshrine it, and thereon departed. The younger brother of King Devenampiatisso (B.C. 259), having discovered this marvellous dagoba, constructed another encasing it, 30 cubits in height. King Duttagamini (B.C. 161), while residing there, during his subjugation of the Malabars, constructed a dagoba, encasing that one, 80 cubits in height.” This was the “Mahiyangana dagoba completed.”[62] It is possible that at each successive addition some new deposit was made; at least most of the topes examined in Afghanistan and the Punjab, which show signs of these successive increments, seem also to have had successive deposits, one above the other.

Of all the relics of Buddha, the most celebrated is the left canine tooth. At the original distribution it is said to have fallen to the lot of Orissa, and to have been enshrined in a town called from that circumstance “Dantapura.” This, most probably, was the modern town of Puri, and the celebrated temple of Juggernath, which now{59} flourishes there, not only in all probability occupies the same spot, but the worship now celebrated there is the same, mutato nomine, as that which was once performed in honour of this tooth. Be this as it may, it seems to have remained there in peace for more than eight centuries, when the king of the country, being attracted by some miracles performed by it, and the demeanour of the priests, became converted from the Brahmanical faith, to which he had belonged, to the religion of Buddha. The dispossessed Brahmans thereon complain to his suzerain lord, resident at Palibothra, in the narrative called only by his title Pandu, but almost certainly the Gautamiputra of the Andrabhitya dynasty. He ordered the tooth to be brought to the capital, when, from the wonders it exhibited, he was converted also; but this, and the excitement it caused, led to its being ultimately conveyed surreptitiously to Ceylon, where it arrived about the year 311;[63] and in spite of various vicissitudes still remains in British custody, the Palladium of the kingdom, as it has done during the last fifteen centuries and a half.[64]

About the same time (A.D. 324[65]) another tooth of Buddha was enshrined in a tope on the island of Salsette, in Bombay harbour, apparently in the time of the same Gautamiputra, but what its subsequent fate was is not known.[66] When the tope was opened for Dr. Bird, it was not there, but only a copper plate, which recorded its enshrinement, by a noble layman called Pushyavarman.[67]

Almost as celebrated as these was the begging-pot of Sakya Muni, which was long kept in a dagoba or vihara erected by Kanishka at Peshawur, and worshipped with the greatest reverence.[68] After paying a visit to Benares,[69] it was conveyed to Kandahar, and is still said to be preserved there by the Mussulmans, and looked upon even by them as a most precious relic.[70]{60}

All this will become plainer as we proceed, for we shall find every Buddhist locality sanctified by the presence of relics, and that these were worshipped apparently from the hour of the death of the founder of the religion to the present day. Were this the place to do it, it would be interesting to try and trace the path by which, and the time when, this belief in the efficacy of relics spread towards the west, and how and when it was first adopted by the early Christian Church, and became with them as important an element of worship as with the Buddhists. That would require a volume to itself; meanwhile, what is more important for our present purpose is the knowledge that this relic-worship gave rise to the building of these great dagobas, which are the most important feature of Buddhist architectural art.

No one can, I fancy, hesitate in believing that the Buddhist dagoba is the direct descendant of the sepulchral tumulus of the Turanian races, whether found in Etruria, Lydia, or among the Scyths of the northern steppes. The Indians, however, never seem to have buried, but always to have burnt, their dead, and consequently never, so far as we know, had any tumuli among them. It may be in consequence of this that the dagobas, even in the earliest times, took a rounded or domical form, while all the tumuli, from being of earth, necessarily assumed the form of cones. Not only out of doors, but in the earliest caves, the forms of dagobas are always rounded; and no example of a straight-lined cone covering a dagoba has yet been discovered. This peculiarity, being so universal, would seem to indicate that they had been long in use before the earliest known example, and that some other material than earth had been employed in their construction; but we have as yet no hint when the rounded form was first employed, nor why the conical form of the tumulus was abandoned when it was refined into a relic shrine. We know, indeed, from the caves, and from the earliest bas-reliefs, that all the roofs of the Indians were curvilinear; and if one can fancy a circular chamber with a domical roof—not in stone, of course—as the original receptacle of the relic, we may imagine that the form was derived from this.[71]

Bhilsa Topes.

The most extensive, and taking it altogether, perhaps the most interesting, group of topes in India is that known as the Bhilsa{61} Topes, from a town of that name in the kingdom of Bhopal, near which they are situated. There, within a district not exceeding ten miles east and west and six north and south, are five or six groups of topes, containing altogether between twenty-five and thirty individual examples. The principal of these, known as the great tope at Sanchi, has been frequently described, the smaller ones are known from General Cunningham’s descriptions only;[72] but altogether they have excited so much attention that they are perhaps better known than any group in India. We are not however, perhaps, justified in assuming, from the greater extent of this group, as now existing, that it possessed the same pre-eminence in Buddhist times. If we could now see the topes that once adorned any of the great Buddhist sites in the Doab or the Behars, the Bhilsa group might sink into insignificance. It may only be, that situated in a remote and thinly-peopled part of India, they have not been exposed to the destructive energy of opposing sects of the Hindu religion, and the bigoted Moslem has not wanted their materials for the erection of his mosques. They consequently remain to us, while it may be that nobler and more extensive groups of monuments have been swept from the face of the earth.

Notwithstanding all that has been written about them, we know very little that is certain regarding their object and their history. Our usual guides, the Chinese Pilgrims, fail us here. Fa Hian never was within some hundreds of miles of the place; and if Hiouen Thsang ever was there, it was after leaving Ballabhi, when his journal becomes so wild and curt that it is always difficult, sometimes impossible, to follow him. He has, at all events, left no description by which we can now identify the place, and nothing to tell us for what purpose the great tope or any of the smaller ones were erected. The ‘Mahawanso,’ it is true, helps us a little in our difficulties. It is there narrated that Asoka, when on his way to Ujjéni (Ujjain), of which place he had been nominated governor, tarried some time at Chétyagiri, or, as it is elsewhere called, Wessanagara, the modern Besnagar, close to Sanchi. He there married Devi, the daughter of the chief, and by her had twin sons, Ujjenio and Mahindo, and afterwards a daughter, Sanghamitta. The two last named entered the priesthood, and played a most important part in the introduction of Buddhism into Ceylon. Before setting out on this mission, Mahindo visited his royal mother at Chétyagiri, and was{62} lodged in “a superb vihara,” which had been erected by herself.[73] In all this there is no mention of the great tope, which may have existed before that time; but till some building is found in India which can be proved to have existed before that age, it will be safe to assume that this is one of the 84,000 topes said to have been erected by him. Had Sanchi been one of the eight cities which obtained relics of Buddha at the funeral pyre, the case might have been different; but it has been dug into, and found to be a stupa, and not a dagoba. It consequently was erected to mark some sacred spot or to commemorate some event, and we have no reason to believe that this was done anywhere before Asoka’s time.

8. Relic Casket of Moggalana. | 9. Relic Casket of Sariputra.

On the other hand two smaller topes on the same platform contained relics of an undoubted historical character. That called No. 2 Tope contained those of ten Buddhist teachers who took part in the third great convocation held under Asoka, and some of whom were sent on missions to foreign countries, to disseminate the doctrines then settled, and No. 3 Tope contained two relic caskets, represented in the accompanying woodcuts (Nos. 8 and 9). One of these contained relics of Maha Moggalana, the other of Sariputra, friends and companions of Buddha himself, and usually called his right and left hand disciples.[74] It does not of course follow from this that this dagoba is as old as the time of Buddha; on the contrary, some centuries must elapse before a bone or rag belonging to any mortal becomes so precious that a dome is erected to enshrine it. The great probability seems to be that these relics were deposited there by Asoka himself, in close proximity to the sacred spot, which the great tope was erected to commemorate. The tope containing relics of his contemporaries must of course be much more modern, probably contemporary with the gateways, which are subsequent to the Christian Era.[75]{63}

10. View of the great Tope at Sanchi.

11. Plan of great Tope at Sanchi.

Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

12. Section of great Tope at Sanchi.

Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

The general appearance of the Sanchi Tope will be understood from the view of it on Woodcut No. 10, and its shape and arrangement from the plan and section, Nos. 11 and 12. From these it will be observed that the principal building consists of a dome{64} somewhat less than a hemisphere, 106 ft. in diameter, and 42 ft. in height.[76]

13. Tee cut in the rock on a Dagoba at Ajunta.

On the top of the tope is a flat space about 34 ft. in diameter, formerly surrounded by a stone railing, some parts of which are still lying there; and in the centre of this once stood a feature known to Indian archæologists as a Tee. The woodcut (No. 13), from a rock-cut example at Ajunta, represents the usual form at this age. The lower part is adorned with the usual Buddhist rail (to be described hereafter), the upper by the conventional window, two features which are universal. It is crowned by a lid of three slabs, and no doubt either was or simulated a relic casket. No tope, and no representation of a tope—and we have hundreds—are without this feature, and generally it is or was surmounted by one or more discs representing the umbrellas of state; in modern times by as many as nine of these. The only ancient wooden one now known to exist is that in the cave at Karli (Woodcut No. 56), but the representations of them in stone and painting are literally thousands in number.

The dome rests on a sloping base, 14 ft. in height by 120 ft. in diameter, having an offset on its summit about 6 ft. wide. This, to judge from the representations of topes on the sculptures, must have been surrounded by a balustrade, and was ascended by a broad double ramp on one side. It was probably used for processions round the monument, which seem to have been among the most common Buddhist ceremonials. The centre of this great mound is quite solid, being composed of bricks laid in mud; but the exterior is faced with dressed stones. Over these was laid a coating of cement nearly 4 inches in thickness, which was, no doubt, originally adorned either with painting or ornaments in relief.

Beside the group at Sanchi, which comprises six or seven topes, there are at Sonari, six miles distant, another group of eight topes. Two of these are important structures, enclosed in square courtyards, and one of these yielded numerous relics to the explorers.

At Satdhara, three miles further on, is a great tope 101 ft. in diameter, but which, like that at Sanchi, seems to have been a stupa, and yielded no relics. No. 2, however, though only 24 ft. in diameter, was found to contain relics of Sariputra and Moggalana, like No. 3 at{65} Sanchi. Besides these there are several others, all small, and very much ruined.

The most numerous group, however, is situated at Bhojpur, seven miles from Sanchi, where thirty-seven distinct topes are grouped together on various platforms. The largest is 66 ft. in diameter, but No. 2 is described as one of the most perfect in the neighbourhood, and, like several others in this group, contained important relics.

At Andher, about five miles west of Bhojpur, is a fine group of three small, but very interesting topes. With those above enumerated, this makes up about sixty distinct and separate topes, in this small district, which certainly was not one of the most important in India in a religious point of view, and consequently was probably surpassed by many, not only in the number but in the splendour of its religious edifices.[77]

Without more data than we at present possess, it is of course impossible to speak with certainty with regard to the age of this group of topes, but, so far as can be at present ascertained, there seems no reason for assuming that any of them are earlier than the age of Asoka, B.C. 250, nor is it probable that any of them can be of later date than the era of Salivahana, A.D. 79, or say after the first century of our era. Their rails may be later, but the topes themselves seem all to be included within these three centuries and a half.

Topes at Sarnath and in Behar.

Not only is there no other group of topes in India Proper that can be compared, either in extent or in preservation, to those of Bhilsa, but our knowledge of the subject is now so complete that it is probably safe to assert that only two, or at most three, topes exist between the Sutlej and the sea, sufficiently perfect to enable their form and architectural features to be distinguished. There are, of course, numerous mounds near all the Buddhist cities which mark the site, and many of which probably hide the remains, of some of the hundreds of stupas or dagobas mentioned by the Chinese Pilgrims, besides many that they failed to distinguish. All, however, with the fewest possible exceptions, have perished; nor is it difficult to see why this should be so. All, or nearly all, were composed of brick or small stones, laid either without mortar, or with cement that was little better than mud. They consequently, when desecrated and deserted, formed such convenient quarries for the villagers, that{66} nearly all have been utilised for building huts and houses of the Hindus, or the mosques of the iconoclastic Mussulmans. Their rails, being composed of larger stones and not so easily removed, have in some instances remained, and some will no doubt be recovered when looked for; and as these, in the earlier ages at least, were the iconostasis of the shrine, their recovery will largely compensate for the loss of the topes which they surrounded.

14. Tope at Sarnath, near Benares.
(From a Photograph.)

The best known, as well as the best preserved of the Bengal topes, is that at Sarnath, near Benares (Woodcut No. 14). It was carefully explored by General Cunningham in 1835-36, and found to be a stupa: viz., containing no relics, but erected to mark some spot sanctified by the presence of Buddha, or by some act of his during{67} his long residence there. It is situated in the Deer Park, where he took up his residence with his five disciples when he first removed from Gaya on attaining Buddhahood, and commencing his mission as a teacher. What act it commemorates we shall probably never know, as there are several mounds in the neighbourhood, and the descriptions of the Chinese Pilgrims are not sufficiently precise to enable us now to discriminate between them.

The building consists of a stone basement, 93 ft. in diameter, and solidly built, the stones being clamped together with iron to the height of 43 ft. Above that it is in brickwork, rising to a height of 110 ft. above the surrounding ruins, and 128 ft. above the plain.[78] Externally the lower part is relieved by eight projecting faces, each 21 ft. 6 in. wide, and 15 ft. apart. In each is a small niche, intended apparently to contain a seated figure of Buddha, and below them, encircling the monument, is a band of sculptured ornament of the most exquisite beauty. The central part consists—as will be seen by the cut on the next page—of geometric patterns of great intricacy, but combined with singular skill; and, above and below, foliage equally well designed, and so much resembling that carved by Hindu artists on the earliest Mahomedan mosques at Ajmir and Delhi, as to make us feel sure they cannot be very distant in date.

The carvings round the niches and on the projections have been left so unfinished—in some instances only outlined—that it is impossible to guess what ultimate form it may have been intended to give them. The upper part of the tower seems never to have been finished at all, but from our knowledge of the Afghanistan topes we may surmise that it was intended to encircle it with a range of pilasters, and then some bold mouldings, before covering it with a hemispherical dome.

In his excavations, General Cunningham found, buried in the solid masonry, at the depth of 10½ ft. from the summit, a large stone on which was engraved the usual Buddhist formula, “Ye dharmma hetu,” &c., in characters belonging to the 7th century, from which he infers that the monument belongs to the 6th century. To me it appears so extremely improbable that men should carefully engrave such a formula on a stone, and then bury it ten or twelve feet in a mass of masonry which they must have hoped would endure for ever, that I cannot accept the conclusion. It seems to me much more probable that it may have belonged to some building which this one was designed to supersede, or to have been the pedestal of some statue which had been disused, but which from its age had become venerable, and was consequently utilised to sanctify this{68} new erection. I am consequently much more inclined to adopt the tradition preserved by Captain Wilford,[79] to the effect that the Sarnath monument was erected by the sons of Mohi Pala, and destroyed (interrupted?) by the Mahomedans, in 1017, before its completion.[80] The form of the monument, the character of its sculptured ornaments, the unfinished condition in which it is left, and indeed the whole circumstances of the case, render this date so much the most probable that I feel inclined to adopt it almost without hesitation.

15. Panel on the Tope at Sarnath.
(From a Photograph.)

The other Bengal tope existing nearly entire is known as Jarasandha Ka Baithak. General Cunningham state its dimensions to{69} be 28 ft. in diameter by 21 ft. in height, resting on a basement 14 ft. high, so that its total height, when complete, may have been about 55 ft.[81] As it was not mentioned by Fa Hian, A.D. 400, and is by Hiouen Thsang, A.D. 640, its age is probably, as General Cunningham states, intermediate between these dates, or about A.D. 500.[82] It is a bold, fine tower, evidently earlier than that at Sarnath, and showing nothing of the tendency towards Hindu forms there displayed. It has, too, the remains of a procession-path, or extended basement, which is wholly wanting at Sarnath, but which is always found in the earlier monuments. It was erected, as Hiouen Thsang tells us, in honour of a Hansa—goose—who devoted itself to relieve the wants of a starving community of Bhikshus.[83]

The third stupa, if it may be so called, is the celebrated temple at Buddh Gaya, which stands immediately in front of the celebrated Bodhi-tree (Ficus religiosa)[84] under whose shade Buddha attained complete enlightenment in the thirty-fifth year of his age, B.C. 588. Its history is told in such detail by Hiouen Thsang[85] that there seems little doubt as to the main facts of the case. According to this authority, Asoka built a small vihara here, but long afterwards this was replaced by a temple 160 ft. high and 60 ft. (20 paces) wide, which are the exact dimensions of the present building, according to Cunningham,[86] and we are further told that it was erected by a Brahman, who was warned by Maheswara (Siva), in a vision, to execute this work. In this temple there was a cella corresponding with the dimensions of that found there, in which the Brahman placed a statue of Buddha, seated cross-legged, with one hand pointing to the earth. Who this Brahman was we learn from an inscription translated by Mr. Wilkins in vol. i. of the ‘Asiatic Researches’ (p. 284), for it can hardly be doubted that the Brahman of the Chinese pilgrim is identical with the Amara Deva of the inscription, who was one of the ornaments of the court of Vicramaditya of Malwa, A.D. 495-530. From a Burmese inscription on the spot, first translated by Colonel Burney, we further learn that the place, having fallen into decay, was restored by the Burmese in the year 1306-1309.[87]

From the data these accounts afford us we gather, with very tolerable certainty, that the building we now see before us (Woodcut No. 16) {70} is substantially that erected by Amara the Brahman, in the beginning of the 6th century, but the niches Hiouen Thsang saw, containing golden statues of Buddha, cannot be those now existing, and the sculptures he mentions find no place in the present design; and the amalakas of gilt copper that crowned the whole, as he saw it, have disappeared. The changes in detail, as well as the introduction of radiating arches in the interior, I fancy must belong to the Burmese restoration in the beginning of the 14th century. Though these, consequently, may have altered its appearance in detail, it is probable that we still have before us a straight-lined pyramidal nine-storeyed temple of the 6th century, retaining all its essential forms—anomalous and unlike anything else we find in India, either before or afterwards, but probably the parent of many nine-storeyed towers found beyond the Himalayas, both in China and elsewhere.

16. Temple at Buddh Gaya with Bo-tree.
(From a Photograph by Mr. Peppe, C.E.)

Eventually we may discover other examples which may render{71} this noble tower less exceptional than it now appears to be; but perhaps its anomalous features may be due to the fact that it was erected by Brahmans for Buddhist purposes in an age of extremest toleration,[88] when it was doubtful whether the balance would incline towards Buddhist or Brahmanical supremacy. In less than a century and a half after its erection the storm burst (A.D. 648) which eventually sealed the fate of Buddhism in Central India, with only a fitful flickering of the lamp afterwards during lulls in the tempest.

At Keseriah, in Tirhoot, about 20 miles north of Bakra, where one of the pillars of Asoka mentioned above is found, are the ruins of what appears to have been a very large tope. It is, however, entirely ruined externally, and has never been explored, so that we cannot tell what was its original shape or purpose.[89] All along this line of country numerous Buddhist remains are found, all more or less ruined, and they have not yet been examined with the care necessary to ascertain their forms. This is the more to be regretted as this was the native country of the founder of the religion, and the place where his doctrines appear to have been originally promulgated. If anything older than the age of Asoka is preserved in India, it is probably in this district that it must be looked for.

Amravati.

Although not a vestige remains in situ of the central dagoba at Amravati, there is no great difficulty, by piecing together the fragments of it in the India Museum—as is done in Plate 93 of ‘Tree and Serpent Worship’—in ascertaining what its dimensions and general appearance were. It was small, only 30 ft. to 35 ft. in diameter, or about 100 ft. in circumference, and 50 ft. high. The perpendicular part, 34 ft. high, was covered with sculptures in low relief, representing scenes from the life of Buddha. The domical part was covered with stucco, and with wreaths and medallions either executed in relief or painted. No fragment of them remains by which it can be ascertained which mode of decoration was the one adopted.

Altogether, there seems no doubt that the representation of a tope on the following page (Woodcut No. 17), copied from the inner rail at Amravati, fairly represents the central building there. There were probably forty-eight such representations of dagobas on this rail. In each the subject of the sculpture is varied, but the general design is the same throughout; and, on the whole, the woodcut may be taken as representing the mode in which a Buddhist dagoba was ornamented in{72} the 4th or 5th century, which is the time at which the style seems to have reached its highest point of elaboration, in India at least.

17. Representation of a Tope from the Rail at Amravati. (From a bas-relief in the India Museum.)

Gandhara Topes.

The extreme paucity of examples retaining their architectural form, in the valley of the Ganges, is, to some extent, compensated for by the existence of a very extensive range of examples in Afghanistan and the western Punjab. In his memoir of these topes, published by Professor Wilson, in his ‘Ariana Antiqua,’ Mr. Masson enumerates and describes, in more or less detail, some sixty examples, or almost exactly the same number which General Cunningham described as existing at Bhilsa. In this instance, however, they extend over a range of 200 miles, from Cabul to the Indus, instead of only 16 or{73} 17 miles from Sonari to Andher. To these must be added some fifteen or twenty examples, found at Manikyala or in its neighbourhood, and it is probable about the same number still exist undescribed, making altogether perhaps 100 stupas in this province.

Notwithstanding this wealth of examples, we miss one, which was probably the finest of all. When Fa Hian passed through the province in A.D. 400, he describes the dagoba which King Kanishka had erected at Peshawur as “more than 470 ft. in height, and decorated with every sort of precious substance, so that all who passed by, and saw the exquisite beauty and graceful proportions of the tower and the temple attached to it, exclaimed in delight that it was incomparable for beauty;” and he adds, “Tradition says this was the highest tower in Jambudwipa.”[90] When Hiouen Thsang passed that way more than two hundred years afterwards, he reports the tower as having been 400 ft. high, but it was then ruined—“the part that remained, a li and a half in circumference (1500 ft.) and 150 ft. high;” and he adds, in twenty-five stages of the tower there were a “ho”—10 bushels of relics of Buddha.[91] No trace of this monument now exists.

These north-western topes are so important for our history, and all have so much that is common among them, and are distinguished by so many characteristics from those of India Proper, that it would be extremely convenient if we could find some term which would describe them without involving either a theory or a geographical error. The term Afghanistan topes, by which they are generally designated, is too modern, and has the defect of not including Peshawur and the western Punjab. “Ariana,” as defined by Professor Wilson, describes very nearly the correct limits of the province; for, though it includes Bactria and the valley of the Upper Oxus, where no topes have yet been found, we know from the Chinese Pilgrims that in the 5th and 7th centuries these countries, as far as Khoten, were intensely Buddhist, and monuments must exist, and will, no doubt, be found when looked for. The name, however, has the defect that it seems to imply the existence in that region of an Aryan people, and consequently an Aryan religion. At the time to which he was referring, that was no doubt the case, and therefore from the Professor’s point of view the name was correctly applied.

When the Sanscrit-speaking races first broke up from their original settlements in the valley of the Oxus, they passed through the valley of the Cabul river on their way to India, and lingered, in all probability, both there and in the Punjab before reaching their first permanent position on the Saraswati—the true “Arya Varta{74}”—between the Sutlej and the Jumna. It is also nearly certain that they remained the dominant caste in these countries down to the time of Alexander’s invasion, and during the supremacy of the Bactrian kingdom. About 130 years, however, before the Christian Era, if we may trust the Chinese accounts,[92] the Yuechi, and other tribes of Tartar origin, were on the move in this direction. About that time they struck down the Bactrian monarchy, and appear from thenceforward to have permanently occupied their country. It is not clear whether they immediately, or at what interval they penetrated into the Cabul valley; but between that time and the Christian Era successive hordes of Yuechi, Sakas, Turuskas, and Hunas, had poured into the valley and the western Punjab to such an extent as to obliterate, or at least for the time supersede the Aryan population, and supplant it by one of Turanian origin, and with this change of race came the inevitable change of religion. Turania would therefore for our purposes be a more descriptive name than Ariana; but it is not sufficiently precise or well defined. No people, so far as is known, ever adopted and adhered to the Buddhist religion who had not a large proportion of Turanian blood in their veins, and the name would consequently include all the people who adopted this faith. Gandhara is, on the contrary, a local name, which certainly, in early times, included the best part of this province, and in Kanishka’s time seems to have included all he reigned over, and, if so, would be the most appropriate term we could find.

It has, moreover, this advantage, that it is essentially Buddhist. In the time of Asoka, it was Kashmir and Gandhara to which he sent his missionaries, and from that time forward Gandhara is the term by which, in all Buddhist books, that kingdom is described, of which Taxila was the capital, and which is, as nearly as can now be ascertained, conterminous with our architectural province.

It is not clear whether Kanishka was or was not the first Buddhist king of this country; but, so far as is at present known, he seems to have done for Buddhism in Gandhara exactly what Asoka did for that religion in central India. He elevated it from its position as a struggling sect to that of being the religion of the State. We know, however, that Asoka himself sent missionaries to this country;[93] and, more than this, that he engraved a complete set of his edicts on a rock at Kapurdigiri, 30 miles north-east from Peshawur, but we do not know what success they or he attained. Certain it is, as Professor Wilson remarks, that “no coin of a Greek prince of Bactria has ever been met with in any tope.”[94] The local coins that are found in them all belong to dynasties subsequent to the destruction of the{75} Bactrian kingdom, and, according to the same authority (p. 322), “were selected from the prevailing currency, which was not of any remotely previous issue;” “while the Greek Bactrian coins had long ceased to be current, though they had not, perhaps, become so scarce as to be enshrined as rarities” (p. 44). Under these circumstances, Professor Wilson arrives at the conclusion that the topes “are undoubtedly all subsequent to the Christian Era” (p. 322). It is true that some of the kings whose coins are found in the topes, such as Hermæus, Azes, Kadphises, and others, may have lived prior to that epoch, but none of their coins show a trace of Buddhism. On those of the last-named king, it is also true that we find the trisul emblem of the Buddhists on the reverse, but it is coupled with the bull and trident of Siva in so remarkable a manner that it can hardly be doubted that the monarch was a follower of the Hindu religion, though acknowledging the presence of Buddhism in his realm.[95] With Kanishka, however, all this is altered. He was a Buddhist, beyond all doubt; he held the convocation called the third by the northern Buddhists—the fourth according to the southern—at which Nagárjuna was apparently the presiding genius. From that time the Thibetans, Burmese, and Chinese date the introduction of Buddhism into their countries: not, however, the old simple Buddhism, known as the Hinayana, which prevailed before, but the corrupt Mahayana, which was fabled to have been preserved by the Nagas from the time of Buddha’s death, and from whom Nagárjuna received it, and spread it from Peshawur over the whole of northern and eastern Asia. It was precisely the same revolution that took place in the Christian Church, about the same time after the death of its founder. Six hundred years after Christ, Gregory the Great established the hierarchical Roman Catholic system, in supersession of the simpler primitive forms. Six hundred years after the Nirvana, Nagárjuna introduced the complicated and idolatrous Mahayna,[96] though, as we learn from the Chinese Pilgrims, a small minority still adhered in after times to the lesser vehicule, or Hinayana system.

Although, therefore, we are probably safe in asserting that none of the Gandhara topes date before the Christian Era, it is not because there is any inherent, à priori improbability that they should date before Kanishka, as there is that those of India Proper cannot extend beyond Asoka. There is no trace of wooden construction here. All is stone and all complete, and copied probably from Bactrian originals that may have existed two centuries earlier. Their dates depend principally on the coins, which are almost invariably found{76} deposited with the relics, in these topes. No coins so far as I know have been found in any Indian tope. They are found in hundreds in these north-western ones, and always fix a date beyond which the tope cannot be carried back, and generally enable us to approximate very nearly to the true date of the monument in question. If those of Kanishka are the earliest, which appears to be the case, the great one which he commenced, at Manikyala, is probably also the last to be finished in its present form, inasmuch as below 12 ft. of solid masonry, a coin of Yasoverma of Canouge was found, and his date cannot be carried back beyond A.D. 720. Between these dates, therefore, must be ranged the whole of this great group of Buddhist monuments.

There probably were no great Buddhist establishments in Gandhara before Kanishka, and as few, if any, after Yasoverma, yet we learn that between these dates this province was as essentially Buddhist as any part of India. Fa Hian tells us, emphatically, that the law of Buddha is universally honoured, and enumerates 500 monasteries,[97] and Hiouen Thsang makes no complaint of heretics, while both dilate in ecstasies on the wealth of relics everywhere displayed. Part of the skull, teeth, garments, staffs, pots of Buddha—impressions of his feet, even his shadow—was to be seen in this favoured district, which was besides sanctified by many actions which had been commemorated by towers erected on the spot where these meritorious acts were performed. Many of these spots have been identified, and more will no doubt reward the industry of future investigators, but meanwhile enough is known to render this province one of the most interesting of all India for the study of the traditions or art of Mediæval Buddhism.

The antiquities of the western part of the province were first investigated by Dr. Honigberger, in the years 1833-34,[98] and the result of his numismatic discoveries published in Paris and elsewhere; but the only account we have of the buildings themselves is that given by Mr. Masson, who, with singular perseverance and sagacity, completed what Dr. Honigberger had left undone.[99] Those of the eastern district and about Manikyala were first investigated by General Ventura and M. Court, officers in the service of Runjeet Sing, and the result of their researches published by Prinsep in the third volume of his ‘Journal’ in 1830; but considerably further light has been thrown on them by the explorations of General Cunningham, and published in his ‘Archæological Reports’ for 1863-1864.{77}

Jelalabad Topes.

The topes examined and described by Mr. Masson as existing round Jelalabad are thirty-seven in number, viz., eighteen distinguished as the Darunta group, six at Chahar Bagh, and thirteen at Hidda. Of these about one-half yielded coins and relics of more or less importance, which proved the dates of their erection to extend from the Christian Era, or it may be a few years before it, to the 7th or 8th century.

One of the most remarkable of these is No. 10 of Hidda, which contained, besides a whole museum of gems and rings, five gold solidi of the emperors Theodosius (A.D. 408), Marcian and Leo (474); two gold Canouge coins; and 202 Sassanian coins extending to, if not beyond, the Hegira.[100] This tope, therefore, must belong to the 7th century, and would be a most convenient landmark in architectural history, were it not that the whole of its exterior is completely peeled off, so that no architectural mouldings remain, and, apparently from the difficulty of ascertaining them, no dimensions are quoted in the text.[101] About one-half of the others contained relics, but none were found to be so rich as this.

In general appearance they differ considerably from the great Indian topes just described, being all taller in proportion to their breadth, and having a far more tower-like appearance, than any found in India, except the Sarnath example. They are also smaller, the largest at Darunta being only 160 ft. in circumference. This is about the usual size of the first-class topes in Afghanistan, the second class being a little more than 100 ft., while many are much smaller.

In almost every instance they seem to have rested on a square base, though in many this has been removed, and in others it is buried in rubbish. Above this rises a circular base or drum, crowned by a belt sometimes composed merely of two architectural string-courses, with different coloured stones disposed as a diaper pattern between them. Sometimes a range of plain pilasters occupies this space. More generally the pilasters are joined by arches sometimes circular, sometimes of an ogee form. In one instance—the Red Tope—they are alternately circular and three-sided arches. That this belt represents the enclosing rail at Sanchi and the pilastered base at Manikyala cannot be doubted.{78} It shows, however, a very considerable change in style to find it elevated so far up the monument as it here is, and so completely changed from its original purpose.

18. Tope at Bimeran.
(From a Drawing by Mr. Masson, in Wilson’s ‘Ariana Antiqua.’)

Generally speaking, the dome or roof rises immediately above this, but no example in this group retains its termination in a perfect state. Some appear to have had hemispherical roofs, some more nearly conical, of greater or less steepness of pitch; and some (like that represented in Woodcut No. 18) were probably flat, or with only a slight elevation in the centre. It seems probable there may have been some connection between the shape of the roof and the purpose for which the tope was raised. But we have no evidence to lead us to any decision of this point.

19. Tope, Sultanpore.
(From a Drawing by Mr. Masson, in Wilson’s ‘Ariana Antiqua.’)

One interesting peculiarity was brought to light by Mr. Masson in his excavation of the tope at Sultanpore, and is shown in the annexed section (Woodcut No. 19). It is proved that the monument originally consisted of a small tope on a large square base, with the relic placed on its summit. This was afterwards increased in size by a second tope being built over it.

Besides those already mentioned there are about twenty or thirty topes in the neighbourhood of Cabul, but all much ruined, and few of any striking appearance. So at least we are led to infer from Mr. Masson’s very brief notice of them. No doubt many others still remain in spots hitherto unvisited by Europeans.

In the immediate vicinity of all these topes are found caves and tumuli, the former being the residences of priests, the latter for the most part burying-places, perhaps in some instances smaller relic-shrines. Their exact destination cannot be ascertained without a careful investigation by persons thoroughly conversant with the{79} subject. There are still, however, many points of great interest which require to be cleared up by actual examination. When this has been done we may hope to be able to judge with some certainty of their affinity with the Indian buildings on the one hand, and those of Persia on the other.

Manikyala.

The most important group, however, of the Gandhara topes is that at Manikyala in the Punjab, situated between the Indus and the Jelum or Hydaspes. Fifteen or twenty examples are found at this place, most of which were opened by General Ventura and M. Court about the year 1830, when several of them yielded relics of great value, though no record has been preserved of the greater part of their excavations. In one opened by M. Court, a square chamber was found at a height of 10 ft. above the ground level. In this was a gold cylinder enclosed in one of silver, and that again in one of copper. The inner one contained four gold coins, ten precious stones and four pearls. These were, no doubt, the relics which the tope was intended to preserve. The inscription has only partially been read, but certainly contains the name of Kanishka,[102] so that we may feel assured it was erected during his reign. Some Roman coins were found much worn, as if by long use,[103] before they reached this remote locality; and, as they extend down to a date 33 B.C.,[104] it is certain the monument was erected after that date. The gold coins were all those of Kanishka. This tope, therefore, could hardly have been erected earlier than twenty years before Christ; how much later, we will be able to say only when we know more of the date and history of the monarch to whom it owes its origin. To the antiquary the inquiry is of considerable interest, but less so to the architect, as the tope is so completely ruined that neither its form nor its dimensions can now be distinguished.

Another was recently opened by General Cunningham, in the relic chamber of which he found a copper coin, belonging to the Satrap Zeionises, who is supposed to have governed this part of the country about the Christian Era, and we may therefore assume that the tope was erected by him or in his time. This and other relics were enclosed in a glass stoppered vessel, placed in a miniature representation of the tope itself, 4½ in. wide at base, and 8½ in. high (Woodcut No. 20), which may be considered as a fair representation of what a tope was or was intended to be, in that day. It is, perhaps, taller, however,{80} than a structural example would have been; and the tee, with its four umbrellas, is, no doubt, exaggerated.

20. Relic casket from Tope at Manikyala. (Found and drawn by Gen. Cunningham.[105]

The principal tope of the group is, perhaps, the most remarkable of its class in India, though inferior in size to several in Ceylon. It was first noticed by Mountstuart Elphinstone, and a very correct view of it published by him, with the narrative of his mission to Cabul in 1815. It was afterwards thoroughly explored by General Ventura, in 1830, and a complete account of his investigations published by Prinsep in the third volume of his ‘Journal.’ Since then its basement has been cleared of the rubbish that hid it to a depth of 12 ft. to 15 ft. all round by the officers of the Public Works Department. They also made careful plans and sections of the whole, manuscript copies of which are now before me.

From those it appears that the dome is an exact hemisphere, 127 ft. in diameter, and consequently, as nearly as may be, 400 ft. in circumference. The outer circle measures in like manner 159 ft. 2 in., or 500 ft. in circumference, and is ascended by four very grand flights of steps, one in each face, leading to a procession-path 16 ft. in width, ornamented both above and below by a range of dwarf pilasters, representing the detached rail of the older Indian monuments. It is, indeed, one of the most marked characteristics of these Gandhara topes, that none of them possess, or ever seem to have possessed, any trace of an independent rail; but all have an ornamental belt of pilasters, joined generally by arches simulating the original rail. This can hardly be an early architectural form, and leads to the suspicion that, in spite of their deposits, their outward casing may be very much more modern than the coins they contain.

The outward appearance of the Manikyala tope, in its present half-ruined state, may be judged of from the view (Woodcut No. 21). All that it really requires to complete its outline is the tee, which was an invariable adjunct to these buildings; no other feature has wholly disappeared. The restored elevation, half-section, half-elevation (Woodcut No. 22), to the usual scale, 50 ft. to 1 in., will{81} afford the means of comparison with other monuments; and the section and elevation of the base (Woodcut No. 23, next page) will explain its architectural details in so far as they can be made out.

21. View of Manikyala Tope.
(From a Photograph.)

22. Restored Elevation of the Tope at Manikyala. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

On digging into this monument, General Ventura found three separate deposits of relics, deposited at apparently equal distances of 25 ft. from the surface of the finished monument and from each other, and each apparently increasing in value or importance as it{82} descended. The first was at the base of a solid cubical mass of squared masonry, and contained, inter alia, some Sassanian coins and one of Yasoverma (A.D. 720), and one of Abdullah ben Hassim, struck at Merv A.H. 66, or A.D. 685.[106] The second, at a depth of 50 ft., contained no coins. The principal deposit, at a depth of 75 ft., was on the exact level of the procession-path outside. It consisted of a copper vessel, in which was a relic casket in brass, represented in the annexed woodcut (No. 24), containing a smaller vessel of gold, filled with a brown liquid, and with an inscription on the lid which has not yet been fully deciphered, but around it were one gold and six copper coins of the Kanishka type.

23. Elevation and Section of Portion of Basement of Tope at Manikyala.

24. Relic Casket, Manikyala.

If this were all, it would be easy to assert that the original smaller tope, as shown in the section (Woodcut No. 22), was erected by Kanishka, or in his age, and that the square block on its summit was the original tee, and that in the 8th century an envelope 25 ft. in thickness, but following the original form, was added to it, and with the extended{83} procession-path it assumed its present form, which is very much lower than we would otherwise expect from its age.

Against this theory, however, there is an ugly little fact. It is said that a fragment[107] or, as it is printed, three Sassanian coins were found at a depth of 64 ft. (69 ft. from the finished surface); and if this were so, as the whole masonry was found perfectly solid and undisturbed from the surface to the base, the whole monument must be of the age of this coin. As engraved, however, it is such a fragment[108] that it seems hardly sufficient to base much upon it. Unless the General had discovered it himself, and noted it at the time, it might so easily have been mislabelled or mixed up with other Sassanian fragments belonging to the upper deposits that its position may be wrongly described. If, however, there were three, this explanation will not suffice. It may, however, be that the principal deposit was accessible, as we know was sometimes the case[109] in this instance, at the bottom of an open well-hole or side gallery, before the time of the rebuilding in the 8th century, and was then, and then only, built up solid. If, however, neither of these explanations suffice, the Manikyala tope is a mystery and a riddle I cannot unravel. If we may disregard this deposit, its story seems self-evident as above explained. But whatever its internal arrangements may have been, it seems perfectly certain that its present external appearance is due to a rebuilding in the early part of the 8th century.

General Cunningham identifies M. Court’s tope as the Huta Murta, one of the most celebrated topes in the province, erected to commemorate Buddha, in a previous stage of existence, offering his body to appease the hunger of a tiger, and—according to another version—of its seven famishing cubs;[110] but, as before remarked, nothing of its exterior coating now remains. Unfortunately, the same is true of all the other fifteen topes at this place, and, what is worse, of all the fifty or fifty-five which can still be identified at Taxila. As General Cunningham remarks, of all these sixty or seventy stupas there is not one, excepting the great Manikyala tope, that retains in its original position a single wrought stone of its outer facing;[111] none, consequently, are entitled to a longer notice in a work wholly devoted to architecture.{84}

## CHAPTER IV.
RAILS.

CONTENTS.

Rails at Bharhut, Muttra, Sanchi, and Amravati.

It is only recently that our rapidly-increasing knowledge has enabled us to appreciate the important part which Rails play in the history of Buddhist architecture. The rail of the great Tope at Sanchi has, it is true, been long known; but it is the plainest of those yet discovered, and without the inscriptions which are found on it, and the gateways that were subsequently added to it, presents few features to interest any one. There is a second rail at Sanchi which is more ornamented and more interesting, but it has not yet been published in such a manner as to render its features or its history intelligible. The same is at least partially true of the great rail at Buddh Gaya, though it is one of the oldest and finest of its kind. When, however, the Amravati sculptures were brought to light and pieced together,[112] it was perceived that the rail might, and in that instance did, become one of the most elaborate and ornamental features of the style. Since then General Cunningham has found two or three buried rails at Muttra, and his crowning discovery of the great rail at Bharhut, has made it clear that this was the feature on which the early Buddhist architects lavished all the resources of their art, and from the study of which we may consequently expect to learn most.

The two oldest rails of which we have any knowledge in India are those at Buddh Gaya and that recently discovered at Bharhut. The former, General Cunningham thinks, cannot be of much later date than Asoka.[113] The latter, in his ‘Memorandum,’[114] he ascribes to the age of that monarch. These determinations he founds principally on the form of the characters used in the inscriptions on them, which certainly are nearly identical with those used on the lâts. From them, and the details of the sculptures, it is quite evident they cannot be far removed in age from the dates so assigned to them.{85} On the whole, however, I am inclined to believe that the Buddh Gaya rail was really erected by Asoka, or during his reign. At all events, we know from the fifteenth chapter of the ‘Mahawanso’ that even if he did not worship this tree, he certainly reverenced it to such an extent that when he sent his daughter Sangamitta to aid in the conversion of Ceylon to the true faith, he cut off and entrusted her with a branch of this tree planted in a golden vessel. That tree was replanted with infinite ceremony at Anuradhapura, and it, or its lineal descendant, remains the principal numen of the island to this day. Hiouen Thsang tells us that Asoka built a small vihara to the east of the tree on the spot where the present temple stands;[115] and nothing is consequently more probable than he should have added this rail, which is concentric with his vihara, but not with the tree.

There certainly is no inherent improbability that he should have done so, for it seems hardly doubtful that this was the tree under whose shade Sakya Muni attained “complete enlightenment,” or, in other words, reached Buddhahood; and no spot consequently could be considered more sacred in the eyes of a Buddhist, or was more likely to be reverenced from the time forward.

The Bharhut rail, according to the inscription on it, was erected by a Prince Vâdha Pala, son of Raja Dhanabhuti,—a name we cannot recognise in any list, but hardly could have been contemporary with the all-powerful and all-pervading rule of Asoka, and must consequently have been subsequent, as no such works were, so far as we now know, erected in India before his day. The ultimate determination of the relative dates of these two monuments will depend on a careful comparison of their sculptures, and for that the materials do not exist in this country. I have, thanks to the kindness of General Cunningham, a nearly complete set of photographs of the Bharhut sculptures, but not one of the Buddh Gaya rail. It is true the drawings by Major Kittoe, in the India House Library, are very much better than those published by General Cunningham in his report;[116] but they do not suffice for this purpose. In so far, however, as the evidence at present available enables us to judge, it seems nearly certain that the Bharhut sculptures are half a century nearer those of the gateways at Sanchi than those at Buddh Gaya are; and consequently we may, for the present at least, assume the Buddh Gaya rail to be 250 B.C., that at Bharhut 200 B.C., and the gateways at Sanchi to range from 10 to say 70 or 80 A.D.[117]

The Buddh Gaya rail is a rectangle, measuring 131 ft. by 98 ft., and is very much ruined. Its dimensions were, indeed, only obtained{86} by excavation. The pillars are apparently only 5 ft. 11 in. in height, and are generally ornamented with a semi-disc top and bottom, containing a single figure, or a group of several. They have also a central circular disc, with either an animal or bust in the centre of a lotus. No part of the upper rail seems to have been recovered, and none of the intermediate rails between the pillars are sculptured. As the most ancient sculptured monument in India, it would be extremely interesting to have this rail fully illustrated,[118] not so much for its artistic merit as because it is the earliest authentic monument representing manners and mythology in India. Its religion, as might be expected, is principally Tree and Serpent worship, mingled with veneration for dagobas, wheels, and Buddhist emblems. The domestic scenes represent love-making, and drinking,—anything, in fact, but Buddha or Buddhism, as we afterwards come to understand the term.

25. Tree Worship: Buddh Gaya Rail. | 26. Relic Casket: Buddh Gaya Rail.

Bharhut.

Whatever interest may attach to the rail at Buddh Gaya, it is surpassed ten times over by that of the newly-discovered rail at{87} Bharhut, which, taking it all in all, is perhaps the most interesting monument—certainly in a historical point of view—known to exist in India. The tope itself, which seems to have been 68 ft. in diameter, has entirely disappeared, having been utilised by the natives to build their villages; but about one-half of the rail, which was partly thrown down and buried in the rubbish, still remains. Originally it was 88 ft. in diameter, and consequently some 275 ft. in length. It was divided into four quadrants by the four entrances, each of which was guarded by statues 4½ ft. high, carved in relief in the corner pillars of Yakshas and Yakshinis, and Naga Rajas—the representatives, in fact, of those peoples who afterwards became Buddhists. The eastern gateway only seems to have been adorned with a Toran—or, as the Chinese would call it, a “Pailoo”—like those at Sanchi. One pillar of it is shown in the following woodcut, (No. 27), and sufficient fragments were found in the excavations to enable General Cunningham to restore it with almost absolute certainty. From his restoration it appears to have been 22 ft. 6 in. in height from the ground to the top of the chakra, or wheel, which was the central emblem on the top of all, supported by a honeysuckle ornament of great beauty. The beams had no human figures on them, like those at Sanchi. The lower had a procession of elephants, bringing offerings to a tree; the middle beam, of lions similarly employed; the upper beam has not been recovered, but the beam-ends are ornamented with conventional crocodiles, and show elevations of buildings so correctly drawn as to enable us to recognise all their features in the rock-cut edifices now existing.

The toran, most like this one, is that which surmounted the southern entrance at Sanchi, which, for reasons given elsewhere,[119] I believe to be not only the oldest of the four found there, but to have been erected in the first quarter of the first century of our era (A.D. 10 to 28). This one, however, is so much more wooden than even that and constructively so inferior, that I would, on architectural grounds alone, be inclined to affirm that it was at least a century older, and see no reason why it should not be two centuries more ancient. The age of the rail, however, does not depend on this determination, as the toran may have been added afterwards.

The rail was apparently 9 ft. in height, including the coping, and had three discs on intermediate rails. The inner side of the upper rail was ornamented by a continuous series of bas-reliefs, divided from each other by a beautiful flowing scroll. The inside also of the discs was similarly ornamented, and some of the pillars had bas-reliefs in three storeys on three of their sides. Altogether, I fancy not less than one hundred separate bas-reliefs have been{88} recovered, all representing some scene or legend of the time, and nearly all inscribed not only with the names of the principal persons represented, but with the title of the jataka or legend, so that they are easily recognised in the books now current in Buddhist countries.

It is the only monument in India that is so inscribed, and it is this that consequently gives it such value for the history not only of art but of Buddhist mythology.[120]

27. Portion of Rail at Bharhut, as first uncovered.
(From a Photograph.)

If this work professed to be a history of Indian art, including sculpture, it would be necessary to illustrate this rail to a much{89} greater extent than is attempted; but as architecturally it is hardly more important than others, that task may well be left to its discoverer. Meanwhile, however, it cannot be too strongly insisted upon that the art here displayed is purely indigenous. There is absolutely no trace of Egyptian influence. It is, indeed, in every detail antagonistic to that art; nor is there any trace of classical art; nor can it be affirmed that anything here exhibited could have been borrowed directly from Babylonia or Assyria. The capitals of the pillars do resemble somewhat those at Persepolis, and the honeysuckle ornaments point in the same direction; but, barring that, the art, especially the figure-sculpture belonging to the rail, seems an art elaborated on the spot by Indians, and by Indians only.[121]

Assuming these facts to be as stated, they give rise to one or two inferences which have an important bearing on our investigations. First, the architecture of this rail, with its toran, are more essentially wooden than even those at Sanchi, and, so far as it goes, tends to confirm the conclusion that, at the period they were erected, the style was passing from wood to stone. On the other hand, however, the sculpture is so sharp and clean, and every detail so well and so cleverly expressed in the hard sandstone in which it is cut, that it is equally evident the carvers were perfectly familiar with the material they were using. It is far from being a first attempt. They must have had chisels and tools quite equal to carving the hardest stone, and must have been perfectly familiar with their use. How long it may have taken them to acquire this degree of perfection in stone carving, it is of course impossible to guess, without further data; but it must have been centuries. Though, therefore, we may despair of finding any architectural buildings older than the time of Asoka, it is by no means improbable that we may find images or bas-reliefs, and inscriptions of a much earlier date, and for the history of India and her arts they would be as useful as the larger examples. They, like this rail, are probably buried under some neglected mound or the ruins of some forsaken city, and will only be recovered by excavation or by accident.{90}

28. Tree and Serpent Worship at Bharhut.
(From a Photograph.)

For the present we must be content with the knowledge, that we now know perfectly what the state of the arts was in India when the{91} Greeks first visited it. Neither the Buddh Gaya nor the Bharhut rails were, it is true, in existence in Alexander’s time; but both were erected within the limits of the century in which Megasthenes visited the country, as ambassador from Seleucus, and it is principally from him that we know what India was at that time. If he did not see these monuments he must have seen others like them, and at all events saw carvings executed in the same style, and wooden chaityas and temples similar to those depicted in these sculptures. But one of the curious points they bring out is, that the religious observances he witnessed at the courts of the Brahmanical king, Chandragupta, are not those he would have witnessed had he been deputed to his Buddhist grandson the great Asoka. There, as everywhere else at this age, everything is Buddhist, but it is Buddhism without Buddha. He nowhere appears, either as a heavenly person to be worshipped, or even as an ascetic. The nearest indication of his presence is in a scene where Ajatasatra—the king in whose reign he attained Nirvana—kneels before an altar in front of which are impressions of his feet. His feet, too, seem impressed on the step of the triple ladder, by which he descended from Heaven at Sankissa; Maya’s dream, and the descent of the white Elephant can be recognised, and other indications sufficient to convince an expert that Buddhism is the religion indicated. But, as at Sanchi, by far the most numerous objects to which worship is addressed in these sculptures, are trees, one of which, the inscription tells us, is the Bodhi-tree of Sakya Muni. Besides this, the Bo-trees of six or seven of his predecessors are represented in these sculptures, and both by their foliage and their inscriptions we can easily recognise them as those known at the present day as belonging to these previous Buddhas.[122]

Naga people, and kings with their five-headed serpent-hoods are common; but only one instance has yet been brought to light in which the serpent can be said to be worshipped. Making love and drinking are not represented here as at Sanchi—nor are females represented nude as they are at Muttra. All are decently clothed, from the waist downwards at least, and altogether the manners and customs at Bharhut are as much purer as the art is better than it is in the more modern example at Sanchi.

Muttra.

When excavating at Muttra, General Cunningham found several pillars of a rail, which, judging from the style, is most probably of about the same age as that at Bharhut, or it may be a little more modern, but still certainly anterior to the Christian Era. The pillars,{92} however, are only 4½ ft. high, and no trace of the top rail nor of the intermediate discs has been found. Each pillar is adorned by a figure of a naked female in high relief, singularly well executed, richly adorned with necklaces and bangles, and a bead belt or truss round their middles. Each stands on a crouching dwarf, and above each, in a separate compartment, are the busts of two figures, a male and female, on a somewhat smaller scale, either making violent love to each other, or drinking something stronger than water.[123]

Though the sculptures at Sanchi and Cuttack have made us familiar with some strange scenes, of what might be supposed an anti-Buddhistical tendency, this rail can hardly be Buddhist. We do not, indeed, know if it was straight or circular, or to what class of building it was attached. If part of a palace, it would be unobjectionable. But if it belonged to a temple, it ought to have been dedicated to Krishna, not to Buddha. It is not, indeed, impossible that a form of Vishnuism may have co-existed with Buddhism in the neighbourhood of Bindrabun, even at this early age. But these are problems, the existence of which is only just dawning upon us, and which cannot be investigated in a work like the present.

Sanchi.

29. Rail at Sanchi.
(From a Drawing by Gen. Cunningham.)

Though the rails surrounding the topes at Sanchi are not, in themselves, so interesting as those at Buddh Gaya and Bharhut, still they are useful in exhibiting the various steps by which the modes of decorating rails were arrived at, and the torans or gateways of the great rail are quite unequalled by any other examples known to exist in India. The rail that surrounds the great tope may be described as a circular enclosure 140 ft. in diameter, but not quite regular, being elliptical on one side, to admit of the ramp or stairs leading to the berm or procession-path surrounding the monument. As will be seen from the annexed woodcut (No. 29), it consists of octagonal pillars 8 ft. in height, and spaced 2 ft. apart. These are joined together at the top by a rail 2 ft. 3 in. deep, held in its position by a tenon cut{93} on the top of the pillars, as at Stonehenge; between the pillars are three intermediate rails, which are slipped into lens-shaped holes, on either side, the whole showing how essentially wooden the construction is. The pillars, for instance, could not have been put up first, and the rails added afterwards. They must have been inserted into the right or left hand posts, and supported while the next pillar was pushed laterally, so as to take their ends, and when the top rail was shut down the whole became mortised together as a piece of carpentry, but not as any stone-work was done, either before or afterwards.

30. Rail, No. 2 Tope, Sanchi.
(From a Drawing by Colonel Maisey.)

The next stage in rail design is exemplified in that of No. 2 Tope, Sanchi (Woodcut No. 30); there circular discs are added in the centre of each pillar, and semicircular plates at top and bottom. In carpentry the circular ones would represent a great nail meant to keep the centre bar in its place; the half discs, top and bottom, metal plates to strengthen the junctions—and this it seems most probably may really have been the origin of these forms.

31. Representation of Rail.
(From a Bas-relief at Amravati.)

If from this we attempt to follow the progress made in the ornamentation of these rails, it seems to have been arrived at by placing a circular disc in each of the intermediate rails, as shown in the woodcut (No. 31), copied from a representation of the outer face{94} of the Amravati rail, carved upon it. In the actual rail the pillars are proportionally taller and the spaces somewhat wider, but in all other respects it is the same—it has the same zöophorus below, and the same conventional figures bearing a roll above, both which features are met with almost everywhere.

32. Rail in Gautamiputra Cave, Nassick.

A fourth stage was reached in that shown in the next woodcut (No. 32), from a representation of a rail in the Gautamiputra cave at Nassick, A.D. 312 to 333, where there are three full discs on the pillars as well as on the rails, and no doubt other variations may yet be found; but these are sufficient to show how the discs were multiplied till the pillars almost become evanescent quantities in the composition.

The greatest innovation, however, that took place, was the substitution of figure-sculpture for the lotus or water leaves of the discs, if that can be called an innovation, which certainly took place in the wooden age of architecture, before it was thought of translating these things into stone. The earliest rails we know, those at Buddh Gaya and Bharhut, show these changes already completed in the manner above described. The plainness of the rail, or the absence of figure-sculpture, is consequently no test of its greater or less antiquity, though the extreme multiplication of discs, as shown in the last example, seems only to have taken place just before their discontinuance.

To return, however, from this digression. The rail that surrounds the great tope at Sanchi was probably commenced immediately after its erection, which, as explained above, was probably in Asoka’s time, B.C. 250; but as each rail, as shown by the inscription on it, was the{95} gift of a different individual,[124] it may have taken 100 or 150 years to erect. The age of the torans is more easily ascertained. There is an inscription on the south gateway, which is certainly integral, which states that the gateway was erected during the reign of a Sat Karni king, and it is nearly certain that this applies to a king of that name who reigned A.D. 10 to 28. As this gateway is certainly the oldest of the four, it gives us a starting-point from which to determine the age of the others. The next that was erected was the northern. That was followed by the eastern—the one of which there is a cast at South Kensington—and the last erected was the western. The style and details of all those show a succession and a progress that could hardly have taken place in less than a century, and, with other reasons, enable us to assert without much hesitation, that the four gateways were added to the rail of the great tope during the first century of the Christian Era, and their execution spread pretty evenly over that period.[125] The northern gateway is shown in the general view of the building (Woodcut No. 10), but more in detail in the cut (No. 33) on the following page.

In design and dimensions these four gateways are all very similar to one another. The northern is the finest,[126] as well as somewhat larger than the others. Its pillars, to the underside of the lower beam, measure 18 ft., including the elephant capitals, and the total height to the top of the emblem is 35 ft. The extreme width across the lower beam is 20 ft. The other gateways are somewhat less in dimensions, the eastern being only 33 ft. in height. The other two having fallen, it is not easy to be sure what their exact dimensions may have been while standing.

All these four gateways, or torans as they are properly called, were covered with the most elaborate sculptures both in front and rear—wherever, in fact, their surface was not hidden by being attached to the rail behind them. Generally the sculptures represent scenes from the life of Buddha when he was the Prince Siddharta, rarely, if ever, after he became an ascetic, and nowhere is he represented in the conventional forms either standing or seated cross-legged, which afterwards became universal. In addition to these are scenes from the jatakas or legends, narrating events or actions that took place during the five hundred births through which Sakya Muni had passed before he became so purified as to reach perfect Buddhahood. One of{96}

33. Northern Gateway of Tope at Sanchi.
(From a Photograph.)

{97}

these, the Wessantara, or “alms-giving Jataka,” occupies the whole of the lower beam of the northern gateway, and reproduces all the events of that wonderful tale exactly as it is narrated in Ceylonese books at the present day. Besides these historical scenes, the worship of trees is represented at least seventy-six times; of dagobas or relic shrines, thirty-eight times; of the chakra, or wheel, the emblem of Dharma—the law—ten times; and of Devi or Sri, the goddess, who afterwards, in the Hindu Pantheon, became the consort of Vishnu, ten times. The trisul or trident emblem which crowns the gateways may be, and I am inclined to believe does, represent Buddha himself. On the left-hand pillar of the north gateway it crowns a pillar, hung with wreaths and emblems, at the bottom of which are the sacred feet (Woodcut No. 34). The whole looking like a mystic emblem of a divinity, it was forbidden to represent it under a human form. The corresponding face of the opposite pillar is adorned with architectural scrolls, wholly without any esoteric meaning so far as can be detected, but of great beauty of design (Woodcut No. 35).

34. Bas-relief on left-hand Pillar, Northern Gateway.

35. Ornament on right-hand Pillar, Northern Gateway.

Other sculptures represent sieges and fighting, and consequent triumphs, but, so far as can be seen, for the acquisition of relics or subjects connected with the faith. Others portray men and women eating and drinking{98} and making love, and otherwise occupied, in a manner as unlike anything we have hitherto been accustomed to connect with Buddhism as can well be imagined. Be this as it may, the sculptures of these gateways form a perfect picture Bible of Buddhism as it existed in India in the first century of the Christian Era, and as such are as important historically as they are interesting artistically.[127]

The small tope (No. 3), on the same platform as the great tope at Sanchi, was surrounded by a rail, which has now almost entirely disappeared. It had, however, one toran, the pillars and one beam of which are still standing. It is only about half the size of those of the great tope, measuring about 17 ft. to the top of the upper beam, and 13 ft. across its lower beam. It is apparently somewhat more modern than the great gateways, and its sculptures seem to have reference to the acts of Sariputra and Moggalana, whose relics, as above mentioned, were deposited in its womb.

This tope was only 40 ft. in diameter, which is about the same dimension as No. 2 Tope, containing the relics of the ten apostles who took part in the third convocation under Asoka, and afterwards in the diffusion of the Buddhist religion in the countries bordering on India.

As above pointed out, the rails at Buddh Gaya and Bharhut afford a similar picture of Buddhism at a time from two to three centuries earlier. At first sight the difference is not so striking as might be expected, but on a closer examination it is only too evident that both the art and the morals had degenerated during the interval. There is a precision and a sharpness about the Bharhut sculptures which is not found here, and drinking and love-making do not occur in the earlier sculptures—they do, however, occur at Buddh Gaya—to anything like the extent they do at Sanchi. There is no instance at Bharhut of any figure entirely nude; at Sanchi nudity among the females is rather the rule than the exception. The objects of worship are nearly the same in both instances, but are better expressed in the earlier than in the later examples. Till, however, the Bharhut sculptures are published in the same detail as those of Sanchi, it is hardly fair to insist too strongly on any comparison that may be instituted between them. I believe I know nearly all, but till the publication of General Cunningham’s work the public will not have the same advantage.

Before leaving these torans, it may be well to draw attention again to the fact of their being, even more evidently than the rails, so little removed from the wooden originals out of which they were{99} elaborated. No one can look at them, however carelessly, without perceiving that their forms are such as a carpenter would imagine, and could construct, but which could not be invented by any process of stone or brick masonry with which we are familiar. The real wonder is that, when the new fashion was introduced of repeating in stone what had previously been executed only in wood, any one had the hardihood to attempt such an erection in stone; and still more wonderful is it that, having been done, three of them should have stood during eighteen centuries, till one was knocked down by some clumsy Englishmen, and that only one—the earliest, and consequently the slightest and most wooden—should have fallen from natural causes.

Although these Sanchi torans are not the earliest specimens of their class executed wholly in stone, neither are they the last. We have, it is true, no means of knowing whether those represented at Amravati[128] were in stone or in wood, but, from their different appearances, some of them most probably were in the more permanent material. At all events, in China and Japan their descendants are counted by thousands. The pailoos in the former country, and the toris in the latter, are copies more or less correct of these Sanchi gateways, and like their Indian prototypes are sometimes in stone, sometimes in wood, and frequently compounded of both materials, in varying proportions. What is still more curious, a toran with five bars was erected in front of the Temple at Jerusalem, to bear the sacred golden vine, some forty years before these Sanchi examples. It, however, was partly in wood, partly in stone, and was erected to replace one that adorned Solomon’s Temple, which was wholly in bronze, and supported by the celebrated pillars Jachin and Boaz.[129]

Amravati.

Although the rail at Bharhut is the most interesting and important in India in an historical sense, it is far from being equal to that at Amravati, either in elaboration or in artistic merit. Indeed, in these respects, the Amravati rail is probably the most remarkable monument in India. In the first place it is more than twice the dimensions of the rail at Bharhut, the great rail being 195 ft. in diameter, the inner 165 ft., or almost exactly twice the dimensions of that at Bharhut; between these two was the procession-path, which in the{100} earlier examples was on the tope itself. Externally, the total height of the great rail was about 14 ft.; internally, it was 2 ft. less, while the inner rail was solid, and only 6 ft. in height.

36. External Elevation of Great Rail at Amravati.

The external appearance of the great rail may be judged of from the annexed woodcut (No. 36), representing a small section of it. The lower part, or plinth, was ornamented by a frieze of animals and boys, generally in ludicrous and comic attitudes. The pillars, as usual, were octagonal, ornamented with full discs in the centre, and half discs top and bottom, between which were figure sculptures of more or less importance. On the three rails were full discs, all most elaborately carved, and all different. Above runs the usual undulating roll moulding, which was universal in all ages,[130] but is here richly interspersed with figures and emblems. The inside of the rail was very{101} much more richly ornamented than the outside shown in the woodcut; all the central range of discs, both on the pillars and on the rails, being carved with figured subjects, generally of very great elaboration and beauty of detail, and the upper rail was one continuous bas-relief upwards of 600 ft. in length. At the returns of the gateways another system was

37. Angle pillar at Amravati. |  | 38. Slab from Inner Rail, Amravati.

adopted, as shown in the above woodcut (No. 37). The pillars being narrower, and the discs smaller, the principal sculpture was on the intermediate space: in this instance a king on his throne receives a messenger, while his army in front defends the walls; lower down{102} the infantry, cavalry, and elephants sally forth in battle array, while one of the enemy sues for peace, which is probably the information being communicated to the king.

The inner rail, though lower, was even more richly ornamented than the great rail, generally with figures of dagobas—apparently twelve in each quadrant—most elaborately carved with scenes from the life of Buddha or from legends. One of these dagobas has already been given (Woodcut No. 17). Between these were pillars and slabs ornamented, either as shown in Woodcuts Nos. 38 and 39, or with either Buddhist designs or emblems, but all as rich, at least, as these; the whole making up a series of pictures of Buddhism, as it was understood in the 4th and 5th centuries, unsurpassed by anything now known to exist in India. The slab represented in Woodcut No. 38 (p. 101), though now much ruined, is interesting as showing the three great objects of Buddhist worship at once. At the top is the dagoba with its rail, but with the five-headed Naga in the place usually occupied by Buddha. In the central compartment is the chakra or wheel, now generally acknowledged to be the emblem of Dharma, the second member of the Buddhist Trinity; below that the tree, possibly representing Sanga or the congregation; and in front of all a throne, on which is placed what I believe to be a relic, wrapt up in a silken cloth.

39. Dagoba (from a Slab), Amravati.

This combination is repeated again and again in these sculptures, and may be almost designated as the shorter Buddhist catechism, or rather the confession of faith, Buddha, Dharma, Sanga. The last woodcut (No. 39) is also interesting, as showing, besides the three emblems, the form of pillars with its double animal capitals so common in structures of this and an earlier age.

The age of these rails does not seem doubtful.[131] The outer or{103} great rail seems to have been commenced about A.D. 319, at the time when the tooth relic paid this place a visit on its way from Puri to Ceylon, and its erection may have occupied the whole of the rest of that century. The inner rail is more modern, and seems to have been begun about A.D. 400, and, with some other detached fragments, carry the history of the monument down, it may be, to 500. At the same time it is clear that an older monument existed on the spot. The fragments that exist of the central tope are certainly of an earlier age, and some of the slabs of the inner rail exhibit sculptures of a much earlier date on their backs. It seems as if they had belonged to some disused earlier building, and been re-worked when fitted to their new places.

When Hiouen Thsang visited this place in the year 639 it had already been deserted for more than a century, but he speaks of its magnificence and the beauty of its site in more glowing terms than he applies to almost any other monument in India. Among other expressions he uses one not easily understood at first sight, for he says, “It was ornamented with all the magnificence of the palaces of Bactria”[132] (Tahia). Now, however, that we know what the native art of India was from the sculptures at Bharhut and Sanchi, and as we also know nearly what the art of Bactria was from those recently dug up near Peshawur, especially at Jamalgiri, we see at once that it was by a marriage of these two arts that the Amravati school of sculpture was produced, but with a stronger classical influence than anything of its kind found elsewhere in India. It is now also tolerably evident that the existence of so splendid a Buddhist establishment so far south must have been due to the fact of the mouths of the Kistnah and Godavery being ports of departure from which the Buddhists of the north-west and west of India, in early times, conquered or colonised Pegu and Cambodia, and eventually the island of Java.

All this will be clearer as we proceed. Meanwhile it seems probable that with this, which is certainly the most splendid specimen of its class, we must conclude our history of Buddhist rails. No later example is known to exist; and the Gandhara topes, which generally seem to be of this age or later, have all their rails attached to their sides in the shape of a row of pilasters. If they had any figured illustrations, they must have been in the form of paintings on plaster on the panels between the pilasters. This, indeed, was probably the mode in which they were adorned, for it certainly was not with sculptures, but we cannot understand any Buddhist monument existing anywhere, without the jatakas or legends being portrayed on its walls in some shape or other.

At Sarnath all reminiscences of a rail had disappeared, and a new{104} mode of ornamentation introduced, which bore no resemblance to anything found on the earlier topes.

Although, therefore, our history of the rails may finish about A.D. 500, it by no means follows that many examples may not yet be brought to light belonging to the seven and a half centuries that elapsed between that date and the age of Asoka. As they all certainly were sculptured to a greater or less extent, when they are examined and published we may hope to have an ancient pictorial history of India for those ages nearly as complete as that possessed by any other country in the world. At present, however, we only know of ten or twelve examples, but they are so easily thrown down and buried that we may hope to find many more whenever they are looked for, and from them to learn the whole story of Buddhist art.

Note.—The central crowning ornament in Woodcut No. 33, page 96, is a chakra or wheel in the centre, with trisul emblems right and left. On the upper beam, five dagobas and two trees are worshipped; on the intermediate blocks, Sri and a chakra; on the middle beam are seven sacred trees, with altars; on the intermediate blocks, Sri and the chakra again. The lower beam is wholly occupied by the early scenes in the Wessantara jataka, which is continued in the rear. The subjects on the pillars have all been described in ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ but are on too small a scale to be distinguishable in the woodcut.

40. Trisul Emblem.
(From a sculpture at Amravati.)

{105}

## CHAPTER V.
CHAITYA HALLS.

CONTENTS.

Behar Caves—Western Chaitya Halls, &c.

Although, if looked at from a merely artistic point of view, it will probably be found that the rails are the most interesting Buddhist remains that have come down to our time, still, in an historical or architectural sense, they are certainly surpassed by the chaitya halls. These are the temples of the religion, properly so called, and the exact counterpart of the churches of the Christians, not only in form, but in use.

Some twenty or thirty of these are known still to exist in a state of greater or less preservation, but, with one exception, all cut in the rock. In so far as the interior is concerned this is of little or no consequence, but it prevents our being able to judge of their external form or effect,[133] and, what is perhaps worse, it hides from us entirely the mode in which their roofs were constructed. We know that they were formed with semicircular ribs of timber, and it is also nearly certain that on these ribs planks in two or three thicknesses were laid, but we cannot even guess what covered the planks externally. It could hardly have been metal, or any kind of felt, and one is unwilling to believe that they were thatched with grass, though I confess, as the evidence at present stands, this seems to me the most probable suggestion.[134]

41. Plan of Chaitya Hall, Sanchi. Scale 30 ft. to 1 in.

The only structural one is at Sanchi, and is shown in plan in the accompanying woodcut (No. 41). It does not however, suffice to show us how the roofs of the aisles were supported externally. What it does show, which the caves do not, is that when the aisle which surrounded{106} the apse could be lighted from the exterior, the apse was carried up solid. In all the caves the pillars surrounding the dagoba are different from and plainer than those of the nave. They are, in fact, kept as subdued as possible, as if it was thought they had no business there, but were necessary to admit light into the circumambient aisle of the apse.

As almost all our information regarding these chaityas, as well as the viharas, which form the next group to be described, is derived from the rock-cut examples in Western India, it would be convenient, if it were possible, to present something like a statistical account of the number and distribution of the groups of caves found there. The descriptions hitherto published do not, however, as yet admit of this.

I have myself visited and described all the most important of them;[135] and in an interesting paper, communicated to the Bombay branch of the Asiatic Society by the Rev. Dr. Wilson, he enumerated thirty-seven different groups of caves, more or less known to Europeans.[136] This number is exclusive of those in Bengal and Madras, and new ones are daily being discovered; we may therefore fairly assume that certainly more than forty, and probably nearly fifty, groups of caves exist in India Proper.

Some of these groups contain as many as 100 different and distinct excavations, many not more than ten or a dozen; but altogether I feel convinced that not less than 1000 distinct specimens are to be found. Of these probably 100 may be of Brahmanical or Jaina origin; the remaining 900 are Buddhist, either monasteries or temples, the former being incomparably the more numerous class; for of the latter not more than twenty or thirty are known to exist. This difference arose, no doubt, from the greater number of the viharas being grouped around structural topes, as is always the case in Afghanistan and Ceylon; and, consequently, they did not require any rock-cut place of worship while possessed of the more usual and appropriate edifice.

The façades of the caves are generally perfect, and form an exception to what has been said of our ignorance of the external appearance of Indian temples and monasteries, since they are executed in the rock{107} with all the detail that could have graced the buildings of which they are copies. In the investigation of these objects, the perfect immutability of a temple once hewn out of the living rock is a very important advantage. No repair can add to, or indeed scarcely alter, the general features of what is once so executed; and there can be no doubt that we see them now, in all essentials, exactly as originally designed. This advantage will be easily appreciated by any one who has tried to grope for the evidence of a date in the design, afforded by our much-altered and often reconstructed cathedrals of the Middle Ages.

The geographical distribution of the caves is somewhat singular, more than nine-tenths of those now known being found within the limits of the Bombay Presidency. The remainder consist of two groups in Bengal; those of Behar and Cuttack, neither of which is important in extent; one only is known to exist in Madras, that of Mahavellipore; and two or three insignificant groups, which have been traced in Afghanistan and the Punjab.

At one time some were inclined to connect this remarkable local distribution with the comparative proximity of the west side of India to the rock-cutting Egyptians and Ethiopians. But the coincidence can be more simply accounted for by the existence in both countries of rocks perfectly adapted to such works. The great cave district of western India is composed of horizontal strata of amygdaloid and other cognate trap formations, generally speaking of very considerable thickness and great uniformity of texture, and possessing besides the advantage that their edges are generally exposed in perfectly perpendicular cliffs. No rock in any part of the world could either be more suited for the purpose or more favourably situated than these formations. They were easily accessible and easily worked. In the rarest possible instances are there any flaws or faults to disturb the uniformity of the design; and, when complete, they afford a perfectly dry temple or abode, singularly uniform in temperature, and more durable than any class of temple found in any other part of the world.

From the time of Asoka, who, two hundred and fifty years before Christ, excavated the first cave at Rajagriha, till the great cataclysm in the 8th century, the series is uninterrupted; and, if properly examined and drawn, the caves would furnish us with a complete religious and artistic history of the greater part of India during ten or eleven centuries, the darkest and most perplexing of her existence. But, although during this long period the practice was common to Buddhists, Hindus, and Jains, it ceased before the Mahomedan conquest. Hardly any excavations have been made or attempted since that period, except, perhaps, some rude Jaina monoliths in the rock at Gualior, and it may be one or two in southern India.{108}

Behar Caves.

As might be expected from what we know of the history of the localities, the oldest caves in India are situated in Behar, in the neighbourhood of Rajagriha, which was the capital of Bengal at the time of the advent of Buddha. There is, indeed, one cave there which claims to be the Satapanni cave, in front of which the first convocation was held B.C. 543. It is, however, only a natural cave very slightly improved by art, and of no architectural importance.

42.
Nigope Cave, Sat Ghurba group.

The most interesting group is situated at a place called Barabar, sixteen miles north of Gaya. One there, called the Karna Chopar, bears an inscription which records the excavation of the cave in the nineteenth year of Asoka (B.C. 245).[137] It is very simple, and, except in a doorway with sloping jambs, has no architectural feature of importance. A second, called the Sudama or Nigope cave (Woodcut No. 42), bears an inscription by Asoka in the twelfth year of his reign, the same year in which most of his edicts are dated, 260 or 264 B.C., and, consequently, is the oldest architectural example in India. It consists of two apartments: an outer, 32 ft. 9 in. in length, and 19 ft. 6 in. in breadth, and beyond this a circular apartment, 19 ft. in diameter, in the place usually occupied by the solid dagoba;[138] in front of which the roof hangs down and projects in a manner very much as if it were intended to represent thatch. The most interesting of the group is that called Lomas Rishi, which, though bearing no contemporary inscription, certainly belongs to the same age. The frontispiece is singularly interesting as representing in the rock the form of the structural chaityas of the age. These, as will be seen from the woodcut (No. 43), were apparently constructed with strong wooden posts, sloping slightly inwards, supporting a longitudinal rafter morticed into their heads, while three small blocks on each side are employed to keep the roof in form. Between the pillars was a framework of wood, which served to support five smaller rafters. Over these lies the roof, apparently{109} formed of three thicknesses of plank, or probably two of timber planks laid reverse ways, and one of metal or some other substance externally. The form of the roof is something of a pointed arch, with a slight ogee point on the summit to form a watershed. The door, like all those of this series, has sloping jambs[139]—a peculiarity arising, as we shall afterwards see, from the lines of the openings following, as in this instance, those of the supports of the roof.

43. Façade of Lomas Rishi Cave.
(From a Photograph by Mr. Peppe, C.E.)

The interior, as will be seen from the annexed plan (No. 44), is quite plain in form, and does not seem to have been ever quite completed. It consists of a hall 33 ft. by 19 ft., beyond which is an apartment of nearly circular form, evidently meant to represent a tope or dagoba, but at that early age the architects had not quite found out how to accomplish this in a rock-cut structure.

44. Lomas Rishi Cave.

Judging from the inscriptions on these caves, the whole were excavated between the date of the Nigope and that of the Milkmaid’s Cave, so called (which was excavated by Dasaratha, the grandson of Asoka), probably within fifty years of that date. They appear to range, therefore, from 260 to 200 B.C., and the{110} Lomas Rishi is probably the most modern[140]—it certainly is the most richly ornamented. No great amount of elaboration, however, is found in these examples, inasmuch as the material in which they are excavated is the hardest and most close-grained granite; and it was hardly to be expected that a people who so recently had been using nothing but wood as a building material would have patience sufficient for labours like these. They have polished them like glass in the interior, and with that they have been content.

Western Chaitya Halls.

45. Chaitya Cave, Bhaja.
(From a Plan by Mr. Burgess.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

There are in the Western Ghâts in the Bombay Presidency five or six important chaitya caves whose dates can be made out, either from inscriptions, or from internal evidence, with very fair approximate certainty, and all of which were excavated, if I am not very much mistaken, before the Christian Era. The oldest of these is situated at a place called Bhaja, four miles south of the great Karli cave in the Bhore Ghât. There is no inscription upon it, but I have a plan and several photographs. From the woodcut (No. 45), it will be perceived that it is a chaitya hall of the usual plan, but of no great dimensions, being only 60 ft. from the back of the apse to the mortices (a a), in which the supports of the wooden screen once stood. From the woodcut (No. 46), taken from one of these photographs, it will be perceived that the pillars of the interior slope inwards at a considerable and most unpleasing angle. The rood-screen which closes the front of all other caves of this class is gone. In all other examples it is in stone, and consequently remains; but in this instance, being in wood, it has disappeared, though the holes to receive its posts and the mortices by which it was attached to the walls are still there. The ogee fronton was covered with wooden ornaments, which have disappeared; though the pin-holes remain by which they were fastened to the stone. The framework, or truss that filled the upper part of the great front opening, no longer exists, but what its appearance was may be judged of by the numerous representations of itself with which it is covered, or{111}

46. Façade of the Cave at Bhaja.
(From a Photograph.)

47. Front of a Chaitya Hall.
(From a Bas-relief at Buddh Gaya.)

from the representation of a chaitya façade from the contemporary rail at Buddh Gaya (Woodcut No. 47), and there are several others on the rail at Bharhut, which are not only correct elevations of such a façade as this, but represent the wooden carved ornaments which—according to that authority—invariably adorned these façades. The only existing example of this wooden screen is that at Karli, but the innumerable small repetitions of it, not only here but in all these caves, shows not only its form, but how universal its employment was. The rafters of the roof were of wood, and many of them, as may be seen in the woodcut, remain to the present{112} day. Everything, in fact, that could be made in wood remained in wood, and only the constructive parts necessary for stability were executed in the rock.

It is easy to understand that, the first time men undertook to repeat in stone forms they had only been accustomed to erect in wood, they should have done so literally. The sloping inwards of the pillars was requisite to resist the thrust of the circular roof in the wooden building, but it must have appeared so awkward in stone that it would hardly be often repeated. As, however, it was probably almost universal in structural buildings, the doorways and openings naturally followed the same lines, hence the sloping jambs. Though these were by no means so objectionable in practice, they varied with the lines of the supports, and, as these became upright, the jambs became parallel. In like manner, when it was done, the architects could hardly fail to perceive that they had wasted both time and labour in cutting away the rock to make way for their wooden screen in front. Had they left it standing, with far less expense they could have got a more ornamental and more durable feature. This was so self-evident that it never, so far as is known, was repeated, but it was some time before the pillars of the interior got quite perpendicular, and the jambs of the doors quite parallel.

There is very little figure-sculpture about this cave; none in the interior, and what there is on the façade seems to be of a very domestic character. But on the pillars in the interior at g and h in the plan (Woodcut No. 45), we find two emblems, and at a, e, and f three others are found somewhat rudely formed, but which occur again so frequently that it may be worth while to quote them here. They are known as the trisul, or trident, the central point being usually more important than here shown, the shield, and the chakra, or wheel. The two first are generally found in combination, as in Woodcut No. 33, and the wheel is frequently found edged with trisul ornaments, as in the central compartment of Woodcut No. 38 from Amravati. The fourth emblem here is the trisul, in combination with a face, and the fifth is one which is frequently repeated on coins and elsewhere, but to which no name has yet been given.

48. Trisul. Shield. Chakra. Trisul.

The next group of caves, however, that at Bedsa, ten or eleven miles south of Karli, shows considerable progress towards lithic construction. The screen is in stone; the pillars are more upright,{113}

49. Plan of Cave at Bedsa.
(From a Plan by Mr. Burgess.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

50. Capital of Pillar in front of Cave at Bedsa.
(From a Photograph.)

though still sloping slightly inwards, the jambs more nearly parallel, and in fact we have nearly all the features of a well-designed chaitya cave. The two pillars in front, however, as will be seen from the plan (Woodcut No. 49), are so much too large in proportion{114} to the rest, that they are evidently stambhas, and ought to stand free instead of supporting a verandah. Their capitals (Woodcut No. 50, p. 113) are more like the Persepolitan than any others in India, and are each surmounted by horses and elephants bearing men

51. View on Verandah of Cave at Bedsa.
(From a Photograph.)

and women of bold and free execution. From the view (Woodcut No. 51) it will be seen how much the surface is covered with the rail decoration, a repetition on a small scale of the rails described in the last section, and which it may here be mentioned is a fair test of the age of any building. It gradually becomes less and less used after the date{115}

52. Chaitya Cave at Nassick.
(From a Photograph.)

{116}

of these two chaitya caves, and disappears wholly in the 4th or 5th centuries, but during that period its greater or less prevalence in any building is one of the surest indications we have of the relative age of any two examples. In this cave, as will be observed, nearly the whole of the ornamentation is made up of miniature rails, and repetitions of window fronts or façades. It has also a semicircular open-work moulding, like basket-work, which is only found in the very oldest caves, and is evidently so unsuited for stone-work that it is no wonder it was dropped very early. No example of it is known after the Christian Era. There is an inscription in this cave in an ancient form of letter, but not sufficiently distinct to fix its age absolutely without further evidence.

The third cave is the chaitya at Nassick. Its pillars internally are so nearly perpendicular that their inclination might escape detection, and the door jambs are nearly parallel.

The façade, as seen in the woodcut (No. 52, p. 115), is a very perfect and complete design, but all its details are copied from wooden forms, and nothing was executed in wood in this cave but the rafters of the roofs internally, and these have fallen down.

Outside this cave, over the doorway, there is an inscription, stating that the cave was the gift of a citizen of Nassick,[141] in the reign of King Krishna, the second of the Andrabritya kings, who reigned just before the Christian Era,[142] and inside, on the pillars, another in an older form of character, stating that it was excavated in honour of King Badrakaraka,[143] who was almost certainly the fifth king of the Sunga dynasty, and who ascended the throne about B.C. 129. It may be possible that a more critical examination of these inscriptions may render their testimony less absolute than it now appears, but, taking them in conjunction with the architecture, the age of this cave hardly seems doubtful. For myself, I see no reason for hesitating to accept B.C. 129 as the date of its inception, though its completion may be a century later, and, if this is so, it carries back the caves of Bhaja and Bedsa to a period considerably before that time, while, on the other hand, it as certainly is older than the Karli cave, which appears to come next to it in age.

Karli.

The fourth cave mentioned above, known as that at Karli, is situated on the road between Bombay and Poonah, and is the finest of all—the finest, indeed, of its class. It is certainly the largest as well as the most complete chaitya cave hitherto discovered in India,{117} and was excavated at a time when the style was in its greatest purity. In it all the architectural defects of the previous examples are removed; the pillars of the nave are quite perpendicular. The screen is ornamented with sculpture—its first appearance apparently in such a position—and the style had reached a perfection that was never afterwards surpassed.

53. Section of Cave at Karli. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

54. Plan of Cave at Karli.

In this cave there is an inscription on the side of the porch, and another on the lion-pillar in front, which are certainly integral, and ascribe its excavation to the Maharaja Bhuti or Deva Bhuti,[144] who, according to the Puranas, reigned B.C. 78, and, if this is so, they fix the age of this typical example beyond all cavil.

The building, as will be seen by the annexed illustrations (Nos. 53, 54, 55), resembles, to a very great extent, an early Christian church in its arrangements: consisting of a nave and side-aisles, terminating in an apse or semidome, round which the aisle is carried. The general dimensions of the interior are 126 ft. from the entrance to the back wall, by 45 ft. 7 in. in width. The side-aisles, however, are very much narrower than in Christian churches, the central one being 25 ft. 7 in., so that the others are only 10 ft. wide, including the thickness of the pillars. As a scale for comparison, it may be mentioned that its{118}

55. View of Cave at Karli.
(From a Drawing by Mr. Salt, corrected by the Author.)

{119}

arrangement and dimensions are very similar to those of the choir of Norwich Cathedral, or of the Abbaye aux Hommes at Caen, omitting the outer aisles in the latter buildings. The thickness of the piers at Norwich and Caen nearly corresponds to the breadth of the aisles in the Indian temple. In height, however, Karli is very inferior, being only 42 ft. or perhaps 45 ft. from the floor to the apex, as nearly as can be ascertained.

Fifteen pillars on each side separate the nave from the aisles; each pillar has a tall base, an octagonal shaft, and richly ornamented capital, on which kneel two elephants, each bearing two figures, generally a man and a woman, but sometimes two females, all very much better executed than such ornaments usually are. The seven pillars behind the altar are plain octagonal piers, without either base or capital, and the four under the entrance gallery differ considerably from those at the sides. The sculptures on the capitals supply the place usually occupied by frieze and cornice in Grecian architecture; and in other examples plain painted surfaces occupy the same space. Above this springs the roof, semicircular in general section, but somewhat stilted at the sides, so as to make its height greater than the semi-diameter. It is ornamented even at this day by a series of wooden ribs, probably coeval with the excavation, which prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that the roof is not a copy of a masonry arch, but of some sort of timber construction which we cannot now very well understand.

Immediately under the semidome of the apse, and nearly where the altar stands in Christian churches, is placed the dagoba, in this instance a plain dome slightly stilted on a circular drum. As there are no ornaments on it now, and no mortices for woodwork, it probably was originally plastered and painted, or may have been adorned with hangings, which some of the sculptured representations would lead us to suppose was the usual mode of ornamenting these altars. It is surmounted by a Tee, the base of which is similar to the one shown on Woodcut No. 13, and on this still stand the remains of an umbrella in wood, very much decayed and distorted by age.

Opposite this is the entrance, consisting of three doorways, under a gallery exactly corresponding with our roodloft, one leading to the centre, and one to each of the side-aisles; and over the gallery the whole end of the hall is open as in all these chaitya halls, forming one great window, through which all the light is admitted. This great window is formed in the shape of a horseshoe, and exactly resembles those used as ornaments on the façade of this cave, as well as on those of Bhaja, Bedsa, and at Nassick described above, and which are met with everywhere at this age. Within the arch is a framework or centering of wood standing free (Woodcut No. 55). This, so far as we can judge, is, like the ribs of the interior, coeval with the{120} building;[145] at all events, if it has been renewed, it is an exact copy of the original form, for it is found repeated in stone in all the niches of the façade, over the doorways, and generally as an ornament everywhere, and with the Buddhist “rail,” copied from Sanchi, forms the most usual ornament of the style.

56. View of Interior of Cave at Karli.
(From a Photograph.)

The presence of the woodwork is an additional proof, if any were wanted, that there were no arches of construction in any of these Buddhist buildings. There neither were nor are any in any Indian building anterior to the Mahomedan Conquest, and very few indeed in any Hindu building afterwards.

To return, however, to Karli, the outer porch is considerably wider{121} than the body of the building, being 52 ft. wide, and is closed in front by a screen composed of two stout octagonal pillars, without either base or capital, supporting what is now a plain mass of rock, but which was once ornamented by a wooden gallery forming the principal ornament of the façade. Above this a dwarf colonnade or attic of four columns between pilasters admitted light to the great window, and this again was surmounted by a wooden cornice or ornament of some sort, though we cannot now restore it, since only the mortices remain that attached it to the rock.

In advance of this screen stands the lion-pillar, in this instance a plain shaft with thirty-two flutes, or rather faces, surmounted by a capital not unlike that at Kesariah (Woodcut No. 6), but at Karli supporting four lions instead of one, and, for reasons given above (p. 55), they seem almost certainly to have supported a chakra or Buddhist wheel. A similar pillar probably stood on the opposite side, but it has either fallen or been taken down to make way for the little temple that now occupies its place.

The absence of the wooden ornaments of the external porch, as well as our ignorance of the mode in which this temple was finished laterally, and the porch joined to the main temple, prevents us from judging what the effect of the front would have been if belonging to a free-standing building. But the proportions of such parts as remain are so good, and the effect of the whole so pleasing, that there can be little hesitation in ascribing to such a design a tolerably high rank among architectural compositions.

Of the interior we can judge perfectly, and it certainly is as solemn and grand as any interior can well be, and the mode of lighting the most perfect—one undivided volume of light coming through a single opening overhead at a very favourable angle, and falling directly on the altar or principal object in the building, leaving the rest in comparative obscurity. The effect is considerably heightened by the closely set thick columns that divide the three aisles from one another, as they suffice to prevent the boundary walls from ever being seen, and, as there are no openings in the walls, the view between the pillars is practically unlimited.

These peculiarities are found more or less developed in all the other caves of the same class in India, varying only with the age and the gradual change that took place from the more purely wooden forms of these caves to the lithic or stone architecture of the more modern ones. This is the principal test by which their relative ages can be determined, and it proves incontestably that the Karli cave was excavated not very long after stone came to be used as a building-material in India.

There are caves at Ajunta and probably at Junir which are as old as the four just described, and, when the history of cave archi{122}tecture comes to be written in extenso, will supply details that are wanting in the examples just quoted. Meanwhile, however, their forms are sufficient to place the history on a firm basis, and to explain the origin and early progress of the style with sufficient distinctness.

From the inscriptions and literary evidence, it seems hardly doubtful that the date of the Karli cave is about 78 B.C., and that at Nassick about 129 B.C. We have no literary authority for the date of the two earlier ones, but the archæological evidence appears irresistible. The Bhaja cave is so absolutely identical in style with the Lomas Rishi cave at Behar (Woodcut No. 43) that they must be of very nearly the same age. Their pillars and their doorways slope so nearly at the same angle, and the essential woodenness—if the expression may be used—of both is so exactly the same, that, the one being of the age of Asoka, the other cannot be far removed from the date of his reign. The Bedsa cave exhibits a degree of progress so nearly halfway between the Bhaja and Nassick examples, that it may safely be dated 150 to 200 B.C., and the whole four thus exhibit the progress of the style during nearly two centuries in the most satisfactory manner, and form a basis from which we may proceed to reason with very little hesitation or doubt.

Ajunta.[146]

There are four chaitya caves in the Ajunta series which, though not so magnificent as some of the four just mentioned, are nearly as important for the purposes of our history. The oldest there (No. 9) is the lowest down on the cliff, and is of the smallest class, being only 45 ft. by 23 ft. in width. All its woodwork has perished, though it would not be difficult to restore it from the mortices left and the representations of itself on the façade. There are several inscriptions, but they do not seem integral. They are painted on the walls, and belong, from the form of their characters, to the 2nd or 3rd century of our era, when the frescoes seem to have been renewed, so that the real tests of its age are, first, its position in the series, which make it, with its accompanying vihara (No. 12), undoubtedly the oldest there; the other test is the architecture of its façade, which so much resembles that of the Nassick chaitya (B.C. 129) that it cannot be far off in date. It may, however, be somewhat earlier, as the pillars in the interior slope inwards at a somewhat greater angle, and, in so far as that is a test of age, it indicates a greater antiquity in the Ajunta example.{123}

57. Interior of Chaitya Cave No. 10 at Ajunta.
(From a Sketch by the Author.)

The next chaitya (No. 10) is situated very near to the last, a little higher up in the rock, however, and of nearly twice its dimensions. It is 94 ft. 6 in. in depth by 41 ft. 3 in. in width internally. As may be seen from the annexed view (Woodcut No. 57), the nave is separated from the aisles by a range of plain octagonal shafts, perfectly upright, but without capitals or bases. The triforium belt is of unusual height, and was originally plastered and painted. Traces of this can still be seen, though the design cannot be made out (Woodcut No. 58). One of the most remarkable characteristics of the cave is that it shows signs of transition from wood to stone in its architectural details. The ribs of the aisle are in stone cut in rock, but copied from the wooden forms of previous examples. The vault of the nave was adorned with wooden ribs, the mortices for which are still there, and their marks can still be traced in the roof, but the wood itself is gone.

58. Cross-Section of Cave No. 10 at Ajunta. No scale.

There are two inscriptions in this cave which seem to be integral, but unfortunately neither of them contain names that can be identified; but from the form of their characters a palæographist would{124} almost certainly place them anterior to the Christian Era.[147] Taking, however, all the circumstances of the case into consideration, and so as to avoid stretching any point too far, it would, perhaps, be better to assume for the present that the cave belongs to the 1st century of our era.

The façades of both these caves are so much ruined by the rock falling away that it is impossible to assert that there was no sculpture on the lower parts. None, certainly, exists in the interior, where everything depends on painting; and it is, to say the least of it, very improbable that any figure-sculpture ever adorned the oldest, while it seems likely that even No. 10 depended wholly on conventional architectural forms for its adornment.

59. Chaitya No. 19 at Ajunta. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

The next chaitya cave in this series (No. 19) is separated from these two by a very long interval of time. Unfortunately, no inscription exists upon it which would assist in assigning it any precise date; but it belongs to a group of viharas, Nos. 16 and 17, whose date, as we shall afterwards see, can be fixed with tolerable certainty as belonging to the 5th century of our era. The cave itself, as will be seen from the plan (Woodcut No. 59), is of the smallest size, nearly the same as No. 9, or 46 ft. 4 in. by 23 ft. 7 in., and its arrangements do not differ much, but its details belong to a totally different school of art. All trace of woodwork has disappeared, but wooden forms are everywhere repeated in stone, like the triglyphs and mutules of the Doric order, long after their original meaning was lost. More than this, painting in the interval had to a great extent become disused as a means of decoration, both internally and externally, and sculpture substituted for it in all monumental works; but the greatest change of all is that Buddha, in all his attitudes, is introduced everywhere. In the next woodcut (No. 60)—the view of the façade—it will be seen how completely figure-sculpture had superseded the plainer architectural forms of the earlier caves. The rail ornament, too, has entirely disappeared; the window heads have been dwarfed down to mere framings for masks; but, what is even more significant than these, is that from a pure theism or rather atheism we have passed to an overwhelming idolatry. At Karli, the eight figures that originally adorned the porch are chiefs with their wives, in pairs. All the figures of Buddha that appear there now are long{125} subsequent additions. None but mortals were sculptured in the earlier caves, and among these mortals Sakya Muni nowhere appears. Here, on the contrary, he is Bhagavat—the Holy One—the Deity—the object of worship, and occupies a position in the front of the dagoba or altar itself (Woodcut No. 61, p. 126), surmounted by the triple umbrella and as the Numen of the place.

60. View of Façade, Chaitya Cave No. 19 at Ajunta.
(From a Photograph.)

At a future stage of our inquiries we may be able to fix more nearly the time in which this portentous change took place in Buddhist ritual. For the present it is sufficient to remark that images of Buddha, and their worship, were not known in India in the 1st century of our era, and that the revolution was complete in the 5th century.

Before leaving this cave, however, it may be well to remark on the change that had taken place in the form of the dagoba during these 500 years. If Woodcut No. 61 is compared with the dagobas in Nos. 56 and 57, it will be seen how much the low rounded form of the early examples had been conventionalised into a tall steeple-like object. The drum had become more important than the dome, and was ornamented with architectural features that have no meaning as applied. But more curious still is the form the triple umbrella{126} had assumed. It had now become a steeple reaching to the roof of the cave, and its original form and meaning would hardly be suspected by those who were not familiar with the intermediate steps.

I am not aware of more than three umbrellas being found surmounting any dagoba in the caves, but the annexed representation of a model of one found at Sultanpore, near Jelalabad (Woodcut No. 62), probably of about the same age, has six such discs; and in Behar numerous models are found with seven, making with the base and finial nine storeys,[148] which afterwards in China became the conventional number for the nine-storeyed towers of that land.

61. Rock-cut Dagoba at Ajunta. (From a Drawing by the Author.) | 62. Small Model found in the Tope at Sultanpore. (From Wilson’s ‘Ariana Antiqua.’)

The last chaitya at Ajunta (No. 26) is of a medium size, 66 ft. by 36, and has a long inscription, but which unfortunately contains nothing to enable us to fix its date with certainty. It is certainly more modern than the last-named, its sculptures are coarser, and their meaning more mythological. We shall probably not err in assuming that it was excavated towards the end of the 6th or beginning of the 7th century;{127} and that the year 600 is not far from its true date. Its chief interest is in showing how nearly Buddhism was approximating to Brahmanism when the catastrophe took place which expelled the former from the country of its birth.

Ellora.

The celebrated Viswakarma cave at Ellora is a chaitya of the first class, intermediate in age between the two last-described caves at Ajunta, or it may be as modern as the last. There are unfortunately no inscriptions nor any traditions[149] that would assist in fixing its age, which must consequently depend wholly on its position in the series and its architectural peculiarities.

The dimensions of this cave are considerable, 85 ft. by 43 ft., and the inner end is entirely blocked up by the dagoba which, instead of being circular as in all the older examples, has a frontispiece attached to it larger than that in cave No. 19 at Ajunta, which, as shown in Woodcut No. 60, makes it square in front. On this addition is a figure of Buddha seated with his feet down, and surrounded by attendants and flying figures in the latest style of Buddhist art. In the roof, all the ribs and ornaments are cut in the rock, though still copied from wooden prototypes, and the triforium has sculptured figures as in Nos. 19 and 26 of Ajunta. Its most marked characteristic, however, is the façade, where for the first time we miss the great horseshoe opening, which is the most marked feature in all previous examples. We can still trace a reminiscence of it in the upper part of the window in the centre (Woodcut No. 63, p. 128); but it was evidently considered necessary, in this instance, to reduce the size of the opening, and it is easy to see why this was the case. At Bedsa, Karli, Kenheri and elsewhere, there was a verandah or porch with a screen in front of the great window, which prevented the direct rays of the sun from reaching it, and all the older caves had wooden screens, as at Karli, from which curtains could be hung so as to modify the light to any desired extent. At Ellora, no screen could ever have existed in front, and wooden additions had long ceased to be used, so that it consequently became necessary to reduce the size of the opening. In the two later chaityas at Ajunta, this is effected by simply reducing their size. At Ellora it was done by dividing it. If we had the structural examples in which this change was probably first introduced, we might trace its progress; but, as this one is the only example we have of a divided window, we must{128} accept it as one of the latest modifications of the façades of these chaityas. Practically, it may be an improvement, as it is still sufficiently large to light the interior in a satisfactory manner; but artistically it seems rather to be regretted. There is a character and a grandeur about the older design which we miss in this more domestic-looking arrangement, though it is still a form of opening not destitute of beauty.

63. Façade of the Viswakarma Cave at Ellora.
(From a Photograph.)

Owing to the sloping nature of the ground in which it is excavated this cave possesses a forecourt of considerable extent and of great elegance of design, which gives its façade an importance it is not entitled to from any intrinsic merit of its own.{129}

Kenheri.

One of the best known and most frequently described chaityas in India is that on the island of Salsette, in Bombay Harbour, known as the great Kenheri cave. In dimensions it belongs to the first rank, being 88 ft. 6 in. by 39 ft. 10 in., and it has the advantage that its date is now almost absolutely fixed. In the verandah there is an inscription recording that the celebrated Buddhaghosha dedicated one of the middle-sized statues in the porch to the honour of the lord Bhagawan,[150] and in the same porch another inscription records the execution of the great statues of Buddha by “Gotamiputra’s imperial descendant Sri Yadnya Sat Karni.”[151] Now we know that the first-named, Buddhaghosha, went on his mission to Ceylon, B.C. 410,[152] and he is not known ever to have returned to India; and Yadnya Sri has always been assumed to have lived 408-428, generally it must be confessed on the mistaken etymology of confounding his name with that of Yuegai of the Chinese. That, however, is apparently only a translation of the “Moon beloved king,” and more applicable, consequently, to Chandra Sri or Chandragupta, who was his contemporary. The true basis for the determination of his date is the Puranic chronology, which, for this period seems indisputable.[153] Be all this as it may, the conjunction of these two names here in this cave settles their date, and settles also the age of the cave as belonging to the early years of the 5th century, at the time when Fa Hian was travelling in India.

This being so, one would naturally expect that the architecture of the cave should exhibit some stage of progress intermediate between cave(No. 10and cave No. 19 of Ajunta, but nothing of the sort is apparent here; the Kenheri cave is a literal copy of the great cave at Karli, but in so inferior a style of art that, when I first saw it, I was inclined to ascribe it to an age of Buddhist decrepitude, when the traditions of true art had passed away, and men were trying by spasmodic efforts to revive a dead art. This being now proved not to be the case, the architecture of this cave can only be looked upon as an exceptional anomaly, the principles of whose design are unlike anything else to be found in India, emanating probably from some individual caprice, the origin of which we may probably never now be able to recover.

Internally the roof was ornamented with timber rafters, and though these have fallen away, the wooden pins by which they were{130} fastened to the rock still remain; and the screen in front has all the mortices and other indications, as at Karli, proving that it was intended to be covered with wooden galleries and framework. What is still more curious, the figures of chiefs with their wives, which adorn the front of the screen at Karli, are here repeated literally, but copied so badly as not at first sight to be easily recognisable. This is the more strange as it occurred at an age when their place was reserved for figures of Buddha, and when, at Karli itself, they were cutting away the old sculptures and old inscriptions, to introduce figures of Buddha, either seated cross-legged, or borne on the lotus, supported by Naga figures at its base.[154]

In front of this cave is a dwarf rail which, with the knowledge we now have, would in itself be almost sufficient to settle the age, in spite of these anomalies (Woodcut No. 64). Unfortunately it is so weather-worn that it is difficult to make out all its details; but comparing it with the Gautamiputra rail (Woodcut No. 32) and the Amravati rail (Woodcut No. 36), it will be seen that it contains all those complications that were introduced in the 3rd and 4th centuries, but which were discontinued in the 5th and 6th, when the rail in any shape fell into disuse as an architectural ornament.[155]

64. Rail in front of Great Cave, Kenheri.
(From a Drawing by Mr. West.)

The evidence in fact seems complete that this cave was excavated in the early years of the 5th century; but, admitting this, it remains an anomaly, the like of which only occurs once again so far as I know in the history of Indian architecture, and that in a vihara at Nassick of the same age, to be described hereafter.{131}

Dhumnar.

About half way between Kotah and Ujjain, in Rajputana, there exists a series of caves at a place called Dhumnar which are of considerable extent, but the interest that might be felt in them is considerably diminished by their being cut in a coarse laterite conglomerate, so coarse that all the finer architectural details had to be worked out in plaster, and that, having perished with time, only their plans and outlines can now be recognised. Among the sixty or seventy excavations here found one is a chaitya of some extent, and presenting peculiarities of plan not found elsewhere. It is practically a chaitya cella situated in the midst of a vihara (Woodcut No. 65). The cell in which the dagoba is situated is only 35 ft. by 13 ft. 6 in., but to this must be added the porch, or ante-chapel, extending 25 ft. further, making the whole 60 ft. On two sides, and on half the third, it is surrounded by an open verandah leading to the cells. The third side never was finished, but in two of the side cells are smaller dagobas—the whole making a confused mass of chambers and chaityas in which all the original parts are confounded, and all the primitive simplicity of design and arrangement is lost, to such an extent that, without previous knowledge, they would hardly be recognisable.

65. Cave at Dhumnar.
(From a Plan by Gen. Cunningham.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

There are no exact dates for determining the age of this cave, but like all of the series it is late, probably between the years 500 and 600 A.D., or even later, and its great interest is that, on comparing{132} it with the chaitya and vihara at Bhaja or Bedsa (Woodcuts Nos. 46 and 49), we are enabled to realise the progress and changes that took place in designing these monuments during the seven or eight centuries that elapsed between them.

Kholvi.

Not far from Dhumnar is another series of caves not so extensive, but interesting as being probably the most modern group of Buddhist caves in India. No very complete account of them has yet been published,[156] but enough is known to enable us to feel sure how modern they are. One, called Arjun’s House, is a highly ornamented dagoba, originally apparently some 20 ft. in height, but the upper part being in masonry has fallen away. Inside this is a cell open to the front, in which is a cross-legged seated figure of Buddha, showing an approach to the Hindu mode of treating images in their temples, which looks as if Buddhism was on the verge of disappearing.

The same arrangement is repeated in the only excavation here which can be called a chaitya hall. It is only 26 ft. by 13 ft. internally; but the whole of the dagoba, which is 8 ft. in diameter, has been hollowed out to make a cell, in which an image of Buddha is enshrined. The dagobas, in fact, here—there are three standing by themselves—have become temples, and only distinguishable from those of the Hindus by their circular forms.[157]

It is probably hardly necessary to say more on this subject now, as most of the questions, both of art and chronology, will be again touched upon in the next chapter when describing the viharas which were attached to the chaityas, and were, in fact, parts of the same establishments. As mere residences, the viharas may be deficient in that dignity and unity which characterises the chaityas, but their number and variety make up to a great extent for their other deficiencies; and altogether their description forms one of the most interesting chapters in our history.{133}

## CHAPTER VI.
VIHARAS,[158] OR MONASTERIES.

CONTENTS.

Structural Viharas—Bengal and Western Vihara Caves—Nassick, Ajunta, Bagh, Dhumnar, Kholvi, and Ellora Viharas—Circular Cave at Junir.

Structural Viharas.

We are almost more dependent on rock-cut examples for our knowledge of the Viharas or monasteries of the Buddhists than we are for that of their Chaityas or churches: a circumstance more to be regretted in this instance than in the other. In a chaitya hall the interior is naturally the principal object, and where the art of the architect would be principally lavished. Next would come the façade. The sides and apse are comparatively insignificant and incapable of ornament. The façades and the interior can be as well expressed in the rock as when standing free; but the case is different with the viharas. A court or hall surrounded with cells is not an imposing architectural object. Where the court has galleries two or three storeys in height, and the pillars that support these are richly carved, it may attain an amount of picturesqueness we find in our old hostelries, or of that class of beauty that prevails in the courts of Spanish monasteries.[159] Such was, I believe, the form many of the Indian structural viharas may have taken, but which could hardly be repeated in the rock; and, unless some representations are dis{134}covered among the paintings or sculptures, we shall probably never know, though we may guess, what the original appearances may have been.

66. Great Rath at Mahavellipore.
(From a Photograph.)

67. Diagram Explanatory of the Arrangement of a Buddhist Vihara of Four Storeys in Height.

{135}

There was, however, I believe, another form of Vihara even less capable of being repeated in the rock. It was pyramidal, and is the original of all the temples of southern India. Take, for instance, a description of one mentioned both by Fa Hian and Hiouen Thsang,[160] though neither of them, it must be confessed, ever saw it, which accounts in part for some absurdities in the description:—“The building,” says Fa Hian, “has altogether five storeys. The lowest is shaped into the form of an elephant, and has 500 stone cells in it; the second is in the form of a lion, and has 400 chambers; the third is shaped like a horse, and has 300 chambers; the fourth is in the form of an ox, and has 200 chambers; and the fifth is in the shape of a dove, and has 100 chambers in it”—and the account given of it by Hiouen Thsang is practically the same.[161] At first sight this looks wild enough; but if we substitute the assertion that the several storeys were adorned with elephants, lions, horses, &c., we get a mode of decoration which began at Karli, where a great range of elephants adorn the lower storey, and was continued with variations to Hullabîd, where, as we shall see further on, all these five animals are, in the 13th century, superimposed upon one another exactly as here recounted.

68. 69.

Square and oblong Cells from a Bas-relief at Bharhut.

The opposite woodcut (No. 66), taken from one of the raths at Mahavellipore, probably correctly represents such a structure, and I believe also the form of a great many ancient viharas in India. The diagram (No. 67) is intended to explain what probably were the internal arrangements of such a structure. As far as it can be understood from the rock-cut examples we have, the centre was occupied by halls of varying dimensions according to height, supported by wooden posts above the ground-floor, and used as the common day-rooms of the monks. The sleeping-cells (Woodcuts Nos. 68, 69) were apparently on the terraces, and may have been such as are frequently represented in the bas-reliefs at Bharhut and elsewhere. Alternately they seem to have been square and oblong, and with smaller apartments between. Of course we must not take too literally a representation of a monastery, carried out solidly in the rock for a different purpose, as an absolutely correct representation of its original. The importance, however, of this form, as explaining the peculiarities of sub{136}sequent Buddhist and Dravidian architecture, is so great that it is well worth quoting here, though this will be more evident in the sequel than it can be at present. In construction the breadth, in a structural building, would probably have been greater in proportion to the height than in this example, but that is of little consequence for our present purposes.

It is, of course, always difficult, sometimes impossible, to realise the form of buildings from verbal descriptions only, and the Chinese Pilgrims were not adepts at architectural definitions. Still Hiouen Thsang’s description of the great Nalanda monastery is important, and so germane to our present subject that it cannot well be passed over.

This celebrated monastery, which was the Monte Cassino of India for the first five centuries of our era, was situated thirty-four miles south of Patna, and seven miles north of the old capital of Rajagriha. If not founded under the auspices of the celebrated Nagárjuna in the 1st century, he at all events resided there, introducing the Mahayana or great translation, and making it the seat of that school for Central India. After his time six successive kings had built as many viharas on this spot, when one of them surrounded the whole with a high wall, which can still be traced, measuring 1600 ft. north and south, by 400 ft., and enclosing eight separate courts. Externally to this enclosure were numerous stupas or tower-like viharas, ten or twelve of which are easily recognised, and have been identified, with more or less certainty, by General Cunningham, from the Pilgrim’s description.[162] The general appearance of the place may be gathered from the following:—“In the different courts the houses of the monks were each four storeys in height. The pavilions had pillars ornamented with dragons, and had beams resplendent with all the colours of the rainbow—rafters richly carved—columns ornamented with jade, painted red and richly chiselled, and balustrades of carved open work. The lintels of the doors were decorated with elegance, and the roofs covered with glazed tiles of brilliant colours, which multiplied themselves by reflection, and varied the effect at every moment in a thousand manners.” Or as he enthusiastically sums up:—“The Sangharamas of India are counted by thousands, but there are none equal to this in majesty or richness, or the height of their construction.”[163]

From what we know of the effects of Burmese monasteries at the present day this is probably no exaggeration; and with its groves of Mango-trees, and its immense tanks, which still remain, it must have been, as he says, “an enchanting abode.” Here there resided in his time—within and without the walls—10,000 priests and neophytes, and{137} religion and philosophy were taught from a hundred chairs, and here consequently our Pilgrim sojourned for five years, imbibing the doctrines of the Law of Buddha. What Cluny and Clairvaux were to France in the Middle Ages, Nalanda was to Central India, the depository of all true learning, and the foundation from which it spread over all the other lands of the faithful; but still, as in all instances connected with that strange parallelism which existed between the two religions, the Buddhists kept five centuries in advance of the Christians in the invention and use of all the ceremonies and forms common to both religions.

It would indeed be satisfactory if the architecture of this celebrated monastery could be restored and its arrangements made clear. Something has been done by Cunningham[164] towards this, and excavations have been made by Mr. Broadley and Captain Marshall. The former it is feared has destroyed more than he has restored, and his drawings are so imperfect as to be utterly unintelligible. The latter has not yet published his discoveries. Nothing, however, would probably better repay a systematic exploration than this celebrated spot, if undertaken by some one accustomed to such researches, and capable of making detailed architectural drawings of what is found.

If, however, it should turn out, as hinted above, that the whole of the superstructure of these viharas was in wood, either fire or natural decay may have made such havoc among all that remains of them, as to leave little to reward the labours of the explorer. What has been done in this direction certainly affords no great encouragement to hope for much. At Sultangunge, near Monghyr, a large vihara was cut through by the railway, but except one remarkable bronze statue of Buddha[165] nothing was found of importance. The monastery apparently consisted of two large courtyards surrounded by cells. What was found, however, could only have been the foundations, as there were no doorways to the apartments or means of communication between each other or with the exterior.[166]

The vihara excavated by Captain Kittoe and Mr. Thomas, at Sarnath, seems certainly to have been destroyed by fire. All that remained was a series of some twenty cells and four larger halls surrounding a pillared court 50 ft. square. On one side were three cells evidently forming a sanctuary, as is frequently found in the later rock-cut examples.[167]

The excavations conducted by General Cunningham, at the same place, are hardly more satisfactory in their result. The two buildings{138} he explored seem to bear the relation to one another of a vihara 60 ft. square over all, and a temple of little more than half these dimensions with a projecting porch on each face.[168] Only the foundation of these buildings now remains, and nothing to indicate how they were originally finished.

We may eventually hit on some representation which may enable us to form definite ideas on this subject, but till we do this we probably must be content with the interiors as seen in the rock-cut examples.

Bengal Caves.

None of the Behar caves can, properly speaking, be called viharas, in the sense in which the word is generally used, except perhaps the Son Bhandar, which, as before mentioned, General Cunningham identifies with the Sattapanni cave, in front of which the first convocation was held 543 B.C. It is a plain rectangular excavation, 33 ft. 9 in. long by 17 ft. wide, and 11 ft. 7 in. to the springing of the curved roof.[169] It has one door and one window, but both, like the rest of the cave, without mouldings or any architectural features that would assist in determining its age. The jambs of the doorway slope slightly inwards, but not sufficiently to give an idea of great antiquity. In front there was a wooden verandah, the mortice holes for which are still visible in the front wall.

The other caves, at Barabar and Nagárjuna, if not exactly chaityas in the sense in which that term is applied to the western caves, were at least oratories, places of prayer and worship, rather than residences. One Arhat or ascetic may have resided in them, but for the purpose of performing the necessary services. There are no separate cells in them, nor any division that can be considered as separating the ceremonial from the domestic uses of the cave, and they must consequently, for the present at least, be classed as chaityas rather than viharas.

The case is widely different when we turn to the caves in Orissa, which are among the most interesting, though at the same time the most anomalous, of all the caves in India. They are situated in two isolated hills of sandstone rock, about twenty miles from Cuttack and five from Bhuvaneswar. The oldest are in the hill called Udayagiri; the more modern in that portion designated Khandagiri. They became Jaina about the 10th or 11th century, and the last-named hill is crowned by a Jaina temple, erected by the Maharattas in the end of the last century.{139}

What we know of the age of the older caves is principally derived from a long inscription on the front of the oldest, known as the Hathi Gumpha, or Elephant Cave.[170] From it we learn that it was engraved by a king called Aira, who ascended the throne of Kalinga in his twenty-fourth year, and spread his power by conquest over neighbouring rajas. He seems at first to have vacillated between the Brahmanical and Buddhist faiths, but finally to have adopted the latter and distributed infinite alms. Among other good works, he is said “to have constructed subterranean chambers—caves containing a chaitya temple, and pillars.”

Palæographically, the forms of the letters used in this inscription are identical with those used by Asoka in the copy of his edicts on the Aswatama rock close by, and that recently found at Aska, near the northern corner of the Chilkya lake. The first presumption, therefore, is that they may be of about the same date. This is justified by the mention of Nanda in the past tense, while there seems no reason for doubting that he was one of the kings of that name who immediately preceded the revolution that placed Chandragupta on the throne. Beside these, there are other indications in this inscription which seem to make it almost certain that Aira was contemporary with the great Mauryan dynasty of Magadha; but whether he preceded or followed Asoka is not quite so clear. Still it appears unlikely that Asoka would have been allowed to set up two copies of his edicts in the dominions of such powerful kings as Aira and his father seem to have been, and as unlikely that Aira should make such a record without some allusion to the previously promulgated edicts, had they then existed. On the whole, I am inclined to believe that Aira lived before Asoka, and, if so, that this is the oldest inscription yet found in India. Be this as it may, the cave in which it is found is certainly the oldest here. It is a great natural cavern, the brow of which has been smoothed to admit of this inscription, but all the rest remains nearly in a state of nature. Close to it is a small cave, the whole “fronton” of which over the doorway is occupied by a great three-headed Naga, and may be as old as the Hathi cave. The inscription on it merely says that it is the unequalled chamber of Chulakarma, who seems also to have excavated another cave, here called the Pawan Gabha,[171] or Purification Cave.

Besides these, and smaller caves to be noticed hereafter, the great interest of the Udayagiri caves centres in two—the so-called Ganesa{140} cave, and that called the Raj Rani, or Rani Hanspur, from a tradition—Hindu—that it was excavated by the Rani of Lelat Indra Kesari, the celebrated builder of the Bhuvaneswar temple in the 7th century.

70. Ganesa Cave.
(From a Plan by Mr. Locke.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

The former is a small cave, consisting of two cells, together 30 ft. long by 10 ft. wide, in front of which is a verandah, slightly longer, that was once adorned with five pillars, though only three are now standing (Woodcut No. 70). There is an inscription on this cave in the Kutila characters, dedicating it to Jaganath; but this is evidently an addition in modern times.[172] The style of the architecture may be judged of from the annexed woodcut, representing one of its pillars (Woodcut No. 71). They are of extreme simplicity, being square piers, changing into octagons in the centre only, and with a slight bracket of very wooden construction on each face. The doorways leading into the cells are adorned with the usual horseshoe formed canopies copied from the fronts of the chaitya halls, and which we are now so familiar with from the Bharhut sculptures, and from the openings common to all wooden buildings of that age.

71. Pillar in Ganesa Cave, Cuttack.
(From a Sketch by the Author.)

72. Upper Storey, Rani Gumpha.
(From a Plan by H. H. Locke.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

The other cave is very much larger, being two storeys in height, both of which were originally adorned by verandahs: the upper 62 ft. long, opening into four cells (Woodcut No. 72), the lower, 44 ft., opening into three. All the doors leading into these cells have jambs sloping slightly inwards, which is itself a sufficient indication that the cave is anterior to the Christian Era, it may be, by a century or thereabouts. Of the nine pillars of the upper verandah only{141} two remain standing, and these much mutilated, while all the six of the lower storey have perished. It seems as if from inexperience the excavators had not left sufficient substance to support the mass of rock above; and probably, in consequence of some slight shocks of an earthquake, the mass above fell in, bearing everything before it. Either then, or at some subsequent period, an attempt has been made to restore the lower verandah in wood, and for this purpose a chase has been cut through the sculptures that adorned its back wall, and they have been otherwise so mutilated that it is almost impossible to make out their meaning. Fortunately, those of the upper verandahs are tolerably entire, though in some parts they, too, have been very badly treated.

Besides this, which may be called the main body of the building, two wings project forward; that on the left 40 ft., that on the right 20 ft.; and, as these contained cells on both storeys, the whole afforded accommodation for a considerable number of inmates.

The great interest of these two caves, however, lies in their sculptures. In the Ganesa cave there are two bas-reliefs. The first represents a man asleep under a tree, and a woman watching over him. To them a woman is approaching leading a man by the hand, as if to introduce him to the sleeper. Beyond them a man and a woman are fighting with swords and shields in very close combat, and behind them a man is carrying off a naked female in his arms.[173]

The second bas-relief comprises fifteen figures and two elephants. There may be in it two successive scenes, though my impression is, that only one is intended, while I feel certain this is the case regarding the first. In the Raj Rani cave the second bas-relief is identical, in all essential respects, with the first in the Ganesa, but the reliefs that precede and follow it represent different scenes altogether. It is, perhaps, in vain to speculate what episode this rape scene represents, probably some local tradition not known elsewhere; its greatest interest for our present purposes is that the first named is singularly classical in design and execution, the latter wilder, and both in action and costume far more purely Indian. Before the discovery of the Bharhut sculptures, it is hardly doubtful that we would have pronounced those in the Ganesa cave the oldest, as being the most perfect. The Bharhut sculptures, however, having shown us how perfect the native art was at a very early date, have considerably modified our opinions on this subject; and those in the Rani cave,{142} being so essentially Indian in their style, now appear to me the oldest. Those in the Ganesa Gumpha, as more classical, may have been executed by some Yavana artist at a subsequent age, but still both seem anterior to the Christian Era.[174] The other bas-reliefs in the Raj Rani cave represent scenes of hunting, fighting, dancing, drinking, and love-making—anything, in fact, but religion or praying in any shape or form. From the sculptures at Sanchi and Bharhut, we were prepared to expect that we should not find any direct evidence of Buddhism in any sculptures anterior to the first century of the Christian Era; but those at this place go beyond these in that respect. Nothing here can be interpreted as referring to any scenes in the life of Sakya Muni, or to any known jataka, and it is by no means clear whether we shall ever discover the legends to which they refer. Besides these bassi-relievi, there is in the Rani cave a figure, in high relief, of a female (?) riding on a lion. Behind him or her, a soldier in a kilt, or rather the dress of a Roman soldier, with laced boots reaching to the calf of the leg—very similar, in fact, to those represented Plate 28, fig. 1, of ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ as strangers paying their addresses to the three-storeyed dagoba—and behind this, again, a female of very foreign aspect.

In another cave of the same group, called the Jodev Garbha, and of about the same age, between the two doorways leading to the cell, a sacred tree is being worshipped. It is surrounded by the usual rail, and devotees and others are bringing offerings.[175]

In another, probably older than either of the two last-mentioned, called Ananta Garbha, are two bassi-relievi over the two doorways: one is devoted, like the last, to Tree worship, the other to the honour of Sri (vide ante, p. 51). She is standing on her lotus, and two elephants, standing likewise on lotuses, are pouring water over her.[176] The same representation occurs once, at least, at Bharhut, and ten times at Sanchi, and, so far as I know, is the earliest instance of honour paid to god or man in Indian sculptures.

One other cave deserves to be mentioned before leaving Udayagiri. It is a great boulder, carved into the semblance of a tiger’s head, with his jaws open, and his throat, as it should be, is a doorway leading to a single cell (Woodcut No. 73). It is a caprice, but one that shows that those who conceived it had some experience in the{143} plastic arts before they undertook it. From the form of the characters which are engraved upon it, it is undoubtedly anterior to the Christian Era, but how much earlier it is difficult to say.

73. Tiger Cave, Cuttack.

From whatever point of view they are looked at, these Orissan caves are so unlike anything that we have previously been in the habit of considering Buddhist, that it may well be asked whether we are justified in ascribing their excavation to the followers of that religion at all. Not only is there no figure of Buddha, in the conventional forms and attitudes by which he was afterwards recognised, but there is no scene which can be interpreted as representing any event in his life, nor any of the jatakas in which his future greatness was prefigured. There is no dagoba in the caves[177] or represented in the sculptures, no chaitya cave, no wheel emblem, nor anything in fact that is usually considered emblematical of that religion.

When we look a little more closely into it, however, we do detect the Swastica and shield emblem attached to the Aira inscription, and the shield and trisul ornament over the doorways in the older caves, and these we know, from what we find at Bharhut and Sanchi, and at Bhaja (ante, p. 112), were considered as Buddhist emblems in these places. But were they exclusively so? The trisul ornament is found on the coins of Kadphises, in conjunction with the bull and trident of Siva,[178] and we have no reason for assuming that the Swastica, and it may be even the shield, were not used by other and earlier sects.

The truth of the matter appears to be that hitherto our knowledge of Buddhism has been derived almost exclusively from books, which took their present form only in the fourth or fifth century of our era, or from monuments erected after the corruptions of the Mahayana introduced by Nagárjuna, and those who assisted at the fourth convocation held by Kanishka in the first century of our era. We now are able to realise from the sculptures of Bharhut, of these caves, and of the Sanchi gateways, and the older western caves, what Buddhism really was between the ages of Asoka and Kanishka, and it is a widely different thing from anything written in the books we possess, or{144} represented afterwards in sculptures or paintings. Whether we shall ever recover any traces of what Buddhism was between the death of Sakya Muni and Asoka, is more than doubtful. If found, it would probably be even more unlike the present Buddhism than that of the intermediate period. Judging from what we have hitherto found, it looks as if it would turn out to be a pure worship of trees by a Naga or serpent-reverencing race, on whose primitive faith Asoka engrafted the teachings of Sakya Muni. There were Buddhists, of course, in India before Asoka’s time, but it seems doubtful if they were sufficiently powerful to dig caves or erect monuments. None at least have yet been discovered, and till they are we must be content to stop our backward researches with such a group of monuments as these Udayagiri caves.

Western Vihara Caves.

There are at least four Viharas which we know for certainty were excavated before the Christian Era. There are probably forty, but they have not yet been edited with such care as to enable us to feel confident in affixing dates to them. The four that are known are those attached to the chaityas at Bhaja and Bedsa (Woodcuts Nos. 45, 49), and the two oldest at Ajunta, Nos. 12 and 11. Those at Karli are probably coeval with the great chaitya itself, but, strange to say, they have never been drawn or investigated, so that we really know little or nothing about them. At Junir there are several, which are very old, and at Sana and Tulaja, in Gujerat, there are several of very ancient date, but they, like those at Junir, are too imperfectly known to be quoted as authenticated examples of the period.

The oldest of these is that attached to the chaitya at Bhaja (ante, Woodcut No. 45). It is five-celled; three of these have single stone beds in them, one is double-bedded, and one, apparently the residence of the superior, is without that uncomfortable piece of furniture. In front of these are two long stone benches at either end of a hall 33 ft. in length. It is not clear whether this hall was always open as at present, but, if it was closed, it was by a wooden screen like the chaitya beside it, which is undoubtedly of the same age. They are indeed parts of one design. The same may be said of the Bedsa vihara, though placed a little further apart. In this case, however, there are three cells with stone beds in the verandah of the chaitya, and a fourth was commenced when apparently it was determined to remove the residence a little further off, and no instance, I believe, occurs afterwards in which they were so conjoined, till at least a very late date, when, as at Dhumnar (Woodcut No. 65), all the parts got again confounded together. As will be seen from the plan (Woodcut No. 49) it is exceptional in form, being apsidal like the chaitya itself.{145} It is not clear whether this is a copy of any existing wooden erection, or whether it was that, being the first attempt at an independent vihara in the rock, they thought it ought to resemble a chaitya in plan. My impression is that the latter is the true explanation; such an arrangement in a free-standing structure intended for a residence would be absurd, but we are here assisting at the “incunabula” of the style, and must not be surprised at anomalies.

Number 12 at Ajunta is merely a square hall, measuring 36 ft. 7 in. each way. It has no pillars, and its only ornament consists of seven horseshoe arches, four of which are over the doors of cells, the other three only ornamental. Unfortunately, the rock over its front has given way, and carried with it the façade, which probably was the most ornamental part of the design.

74. Cave No. 11, at Ajunta.
(From a Plan by the Author.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

Number 11 is a step in advance of this one, there being four pillars in its centre (Woodcut No. 74). It has nine cells, but is without any sanctuary or ritual arrangement. In age, it seems to be contemporary with the chaitya No. 10, to which it evidently belongs, and like it may be considered as a transitional example, dating about the Christian Era, or rather before that time.

The most marked characteristic of these early viharas on the western side of India, is that unlike their eastern contemporaries, they are wholly devoid of figure-sculpture: no bassi-relievi, not even an emblem, relieves the severity of their simplicity. Over the doorways of the cells there are the usual horseshoe arches, copied from the windows of the great chaityas, and the invariable Buddhist rail repeated everywhere as a stringcourse, with an occasional pillar or pilaster to relieve the monotony.

There do not at present seem to exist any data sufficient to account satisfactorily for this curious difference between the exuberance of figure-sculpture in the east, and its total absence in the west in the pre-Christian Era caves, and the problem must be relegated for further inquiries. Looking, however, at the progress made of late years in these subjects, there is little doubt that its solution is not far off, and will, when reached, throw fresh light on the early history of Buddhism. Meanwhile, it may be worthy of remark, that the only living representation that is common to both sides of India, is the presence of the three-headed Naga on the façade of the Nassick chaitya (Woodcut No. 52), and its appearance in a similar position on the Chulakarma and Ananta caves at Udayagiri in Orissa. It points to an important feature in early Buddhist history, but not exactly{146} what we are now looking for. Besides this the three, five, or seven-headed Naga occurs so frequently at Bharhut, Sanchi and elsewhere, that his presence here can hardly be called a distinctive peculiarity.

75. Cave No. 2, at Ajunta.
(From a Plan by the Author.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

The next step after the introduction of four pillars to support the roof, as in cave No. 11 at Ajunta (Woodcut No. 74), was to introduce twelve pillars to support the roof, there being no intermediate number which would divide by four, and admit of an opening in the centre of every side. This arrangement is shown in the woodcut (No. 75), representing the plan of the cave No. 2 at Ajunta. Before this stage of cave architecture had been reached, the worship had degenerated considerably from its original purity; and these caves always possess a sanctuary containing an image of Buddha. There are frequently, besides this, as in the instance under consideration, two side chapels, like those in Catholic churches, containing images of subordinate saints, sometimes male, sometimes female.

76. Cave at Bagh.
(From a Plan, by Captain Dangerfield, in the ‘Transactions of the Bombay Literary Society.’) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

The next and most extensive arrangement of these square monastery-{147}caves is that in which twenty pillars are placed in the floor, so as to support the roof, six on each side, counting the corner pillars twice. There are several of these large caves at Ajunta and elsewhere; and one at Bagh, on the Tapty, represented in the last woodcut (No. 76), has, besides the ordinary complement, four additional pillars in the centre; these were introduced evidently in consequence of the rock not being sufficiently homogeneous and perfect to support itself without this additional precaution.

These—which might be classed, according to the terms used in Greek architecture, as astyle, when having no pillars; distyle, when with two pillars in each face; tetrastyle, with four; and hexastyle with six—form the leading and most characteristic division of these excavations, and with slight modification are to be found in all the modern series.

The forms, however, of many are so various and so abnormal, that it would require a far more extended classification to enable us to describe and include them all. In many instances the great depth of the cave which this square arrangement required was felt to be inconvenient; and a more oblong form was adopted, as in the Durbar cave at Salsette (Woodcut No. 77), where, besides, the sanctuary is projected forward, and assists, with the pillars, to support the roof. In some examples this is carried even further, and the sanctuary, standing boldly forward to the centre of the hall, forms in reality the only support. This, however, is a late arrangement, and must be considered more as an economical than an architectural improvement. Indeed by it the dignity and beauty of the whole composition are almost entirely destroyed.

77. Durbar Cave, Salsette.
(From a Plan by the Author.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

Nassick Viharas.

The two most interesting series of caves for the investigation of the history of the later developments of the Vihara system, are those at Nassick and Ajunta. The latter is by far the most extensive, consisting of twenty-six first-class caves, four of which are chaityas. The latter group numbers, it is true, seventeen excavations, but{148} only six or seven of these can be called first-class, and it possesses only one chaitya. The others are small excavations of no particular merit or interest. Ajunta has also the advantage of retaining the greater portion of the paintings which once adorned the walls of all viharas erected subsequently to the Christian Era, while these have almost entirely disappeared at Nassick, though there seems very little doubt that the walls of all the greater viharas there were once so ornamented. This indeed was one of the great distinctions between them and the earlier primitive cells of the monks before the Christian Era. The Buddhist church between Asoka and Kanishka was in the same position as that of Christianity between Constantine and Gregory the Great. It was the last-named pontiff who inaugurated the Middle Ages with all their pomp and ceremonial. It might, therefore, under certain circumstances be expedient to describe the Ajunta viharas first; but they are singularly deficient in well-preserved inscriptions containing recognisable names. Nassick, on the other hand, is peculiarly rich in this respect, and the history of the series can be made out with very tolerable approximative certainty.[179]

The only difficulty is at the beginning of the series. If the chaitya cave was, as above stated, commenced 129 years before Christ, there ought to have been a vihara of the same age attached to it, but such does not seem to exist. There is indeed a small vihara close to it, and on a lower level than those now on each side of it, and consequently more likely to be what we are looking for, than they are. It is a simple square hall measuring 14 ft. each way, with two square cells in three of its sides, the fourth opening on a verandah with two octagon pillars in front. The only ornament of the interior is a horseshoe arch over each opening, connected with a simple Buddhist rail. In every detail it is in fact identical with the two old viharas Nos. 12 and 11 Ajunta, and certainly anterior to the Christian Era; but it bears an inscription of Krishna Raja, and he seems almost certainly to be the second of the Andrabritya race, and he ascended the throne B.C. 8, or 120 years after the time we are looking for.[180] But for this{149} the architectural details would accord perfectly with those of the chaitya, and the age ascribed to it; but the inscriptions may have been added afterwards. If this is not so, the only suggestion that occurs to me is that, as originally executed, the chaitya had a forecourt, and that the cells were in this, as at Bedsa and Sana, but that having fallen away, from some flaw in the rock, was entirely removed, and at a subsequent time that on the right was added at a height of 6 ft. above the level of the floor of the chaitya, that on the left at 12 ft., about the same datum,[181] which could hardly have been the case if they were part of the original conception.

Turning from these, which practically belong to the last chapter rather than to this, the interest is centred in three great viharas, the oldest of which bears the name of Nahapana (Woodcut No. 78), the second that of Gautamiputra, and the third that of Yadnya Sri—if my chronology is correct, their dates are thus fixed, in round numbers, as A.D. 100, 300, and 400.

78. Nahapana Vihara, Nassick.
(From a Plan by Mr. Burgess.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

The two principal viharas at Nassick, Nos. 3 and 8, are so similar in dimensions and in all their arrangements, that it is almost impossible to distinguish between their plans on paper. They are both square halls measuring more than 40 ft. each side, without any pillars in the centre, and are surrounded on three sides by sixteen cells of nearly the same dimensions. On the fourth side is a six-pillared verandah, in the one case with a cell at each end, in the other with only one cell, which is the most marked distinction between the two plans. The architecture, too, is in some respects so similar that we can hardly hesitate in assuming that the one is an intentional copy of the other. It is in fact the problem of the great cave at Kenheri, being a copy of that at Karli repeated here.[182] Only the difference in age between the two chaityas being five centuries, the degradation in style is greater than here, where it appears to be little more than two.

The pillars in the verandah of cave No. 8 (Woodcut No. 79, p. 150) are so similar to those in the great Karli chaitya, that if it should turn out, as Justice Newton[183] supposes, that Nahapana was the founder of the Samvat era, 56 B.C., there would be nothing in the architecture to contradict such a date. According to Mr. West, “the pillars are shorter{150} in proportion, and the human figures more rudely designed;”[184] but whether to such an extent as to justify an interval of nearly two centuries is not quite clear. On the other hand no vihara I know of on this side of India has a facade so richly ornamented as this. Those at Bhaja and Bedsa are quite plain, and those around Karli, though richer, are far inferior to this, so that on the whole the architectural evidence tends strongly to a date subsequent to the Christian Era.

The inscription on this cave says, that it was excavated by Ushavadata, son-in-law of Nahapana, viceroy under King Kshaharatra,[185] evidently a foreigner, whose proper name has not yet been discovered, but for reasons given in the Appendix, there seems little doubt but that the Saka era (A.D. 78-9) dates from his coronation, and as some years must have elapsed before the son-in-law of the viceroy could have been in a position to undertake such a work as this, I presume A.D. 100 is not far from the date of the cave.

79. Pillar in Nahapana Cave, Nassick. (From a Photograph.) | 80. Pillar in Gautamiputra Cave, Nassick. (From a Photograph.)

The pillars of the Gautamiputra cave No. 3 have, as will be seen{151} from the last woodcut (No. 80), lost much of the elegance of those last described. Instead of the graceful bell-shaped Persian capitals, we have the pudding forms that afterwards became so prevalent. The shafts are straight posts, and have no bases, and the whole shows an inferiority not to be mistaken. The richly carved and sculptured doorway also belongs to a much more modern age. Besides this, there are three things here which prove almost incontestably that it belongs to the same age as the Amravati tope erected in the 4th century—the rail in front, already given (Woodcut No. 36), the pilaster at the end of the verandah,[186] and the bas-relief of a dagoba, which occupies the same position on the back wall in this cave that the man with the club occupies in No. 8. It has the same attendants, and the same superfluity of umbrellas, as are found there,[187] so that altogether the age of the excavation can hardly be considered doubtful.

Cave No. 12 is a small vihara, the central hall being 30 ft. by 23 ft., and with only four cells on one side. Considerable alterations have been attempted in its interior at some date long subsequent to its first excavation, to adapt it apparently to Hindu worship. Its verandah, however, consisting of two attached and two free-standing columns, is undoubtedly of the same age as the Nahapana cave No. 8. An inscription upon it states that it was excavated by Indragnidatta, prince regnant under Patamitraka of the northern region.[188] None of these names can be recognised, but they point to an age when foreign kings, possibly of the Punjab, ruled this country by satraps.

81. Yadnya Sri Cave, Nassick.
(From a Plan by Mr. Burgess.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

The great vihara beyond the chaitya cave, and 12 ft. above its level, is one of the most important of the series, not only from its size, but from its ordinance and date (Woodcut No. 81). The hall is 60 ft. in depth by 40 ft. wide at the outer end, increasing to 45 ft. at the inner, and with eight cells on either side. The most marked peculiarity, however, is that it has a regular sanctuary at its inner end, with two richly-carved pillars in front (Woodcut No. 82, p. 152), and within, a colossal figure of Buddha, seated, with flying and standing attendants, dwarpals, dwarfs,{152} and all the usual accompaniments usually found in the fifth and subsequent centuries, but never, so far as I know, before.

Fortunately we have in this cave an inscription containing a well-known name. It is said to have been excavated by the wife of the commander-in-chief of the Emperor Yadnya Sri, Sat Karni, descendant of King Gautamiputra, in the seventh year.[189] We are not able to fix the exact year to which this date refers; probably it was only regnal, but it does not seem doubtful that this king reigned in the first quarter of the 5th century, and we consequently have in this cave a fixed point on which to base our calculations for the period about the time.

82. Pillar in Yadnya Sri Cave.
(From a Drawing by Mr. Burgess.)

Beyond this there is still another excavation, No. 17—it can hardly be called a vihara—of very irregular shape, and covered with sculpture of a date at least a century more modern than that of the cave last described. Buddha is there represented in all his attitudes, standing or sitting, accompanied by chowrie bearers, flying figures, dwarfs, &c. On one side is a colossal recumbent figure of him attaining Nirvana, which is a sure sign of a very modern date. Besides these, there are Dyani Buddhas, Bodhisatwas, and all the modern pantheon of Buddhism, arranged in most admired confusion, as in all the most modern caves. There is no inscription, but from its sculpture and the form of its pillars we may safely ascribe it to the last age of Buddhist art, say about the year 600 or later. The pillars approximate closely in style to those found at Elephanta, and in the Brahmanical caves at Ellora, which from other evidence have been assigned to dates varying from 600 to 800 years of our era.

More has perhaps been said about the Nassick caves than their architectural importance would seem at first sight to justify, but they{153} are one of the most important of the purely Buddhist groups, and they have hardly yet been alluded to in European books. Their great merit, however, is that they belong to one of the most important of the older Indian dynasties, known as the Andrabrityas, Sata Karnis, or Satavahanas. Being of purely Indian extraction, they, however, did not coin money like the Punjab dynasties, nor their contemporaries and rivals the Sah kings of Gujerat, who brought the art with them when they came as conquerors from the north-west, where they had learnt the art from the Greeks. This dynasty has, consequently, been overlooked by numismatists and others, and can only be rehabilitated by their inscriptions and their architectural work, on which these are found inscribed.

Ajunta Viharas.

As before mentioned, the central group of the four oldest caves at Ajunta forms the nucleus from which the caves radiate north and south—eight in one direction, and fourteen in the other. It seems, however, that there was a pause in the excavation of caves after the first great effort, and that they were then extended, for some time at least, in a southern direction. Thus caves Nos. 13 to 20 form a tolerably consecutive series, without any violent break. After that, or it may be contemporaneously with the last named, may be grouped Nos. 8, 7, and 6; and, lastly, Nos. 21 to 26 at one end of the series, and(Nos. 1 to 5 at the other, form the latest and most ornate group of the whole series.[190]

As above explained of the central four, three are certainly anterior to the Christian Era. One, No. 10, being transitional in some of its features, may belong to the 1st century, and be consequently contemporary with the gateways at Sanchi. After this first effort, however, came the pause just alluded to, for Nos. 13, 14, and 15, which are the only caves we can safely assign to the next three centuries, are comparatively insignificant, either in extent or in richness of detail.

Leaving these, we come to two viharas, Nos. 16 and 17, which are the most beautiful here, and, taken in conjunction with their paintings, probably the most interesting viharas in India.

No. 16 is a twenty-pillared cave, measuring about 65 ft. each way (Woodcut No. 83, p. 154), with sixteen cells and a regular sanctuary, in which is a figure of Buddha, seated, with his feet down. The general appearance of the interior may be judged of by the following woodcut (No. 84) in outline, but only a coloured representation in much{154}

83. Plan of Cave No. 16, at Ajunta.
(From a Plan by Mr. Burgess.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

84. View of Interior of Vihara No. 16, at Ajunta.
(From a Sketch by the Author.)

{155}

greater detail could give an idea of the richness of effect produced by its decoration. All the walls are covered with frescoes representing scenes from the life of Buddha, or from the legends of saints, and the roof and pillars by arabesques and ornaments, generally of great beauty of outline, heightened by the most harmonious colouring.

85. View in Cave No. 17, at Ajunta.
(From a Photograph.)

No. 17, which is very similar in plan, is generally known as the Zodiac cave, from the figure of a Buddhist chakra or wheel painted at one end of its verandah, which was mistaken by early visitors for a celestial emblem. The general effect of its architecture internally may be gathered from the above woodcut (No. 85) from a photograph, or from the next woodcut (No. 86) representing one of its pillars to a larger scale, from which the curiously wooden construction of the roof will be better observed than from the photograph. It is, in fact, the usual mode of forming flat or terraced roofs at the present day throughout India, and which consequently does not seem to have{156}

86. Pillar in Vihara No. 17, at Ajunta.
(From a Sketch by the Author.)

varied from the 5th century at all events. As may be gathered from these illustrations the pillars in these caves are almost indefinitely varied, generally in pairs, but no pillars in any one cave are at all like those in any other. In each cave, however, there is a general harmony of design and of form, which prevents their variety from being unpleasing. The effect on the contrary is singularly harmonious and satisfactory. The great interest of these two caves lies, however, in their frescoes, which represent Buddhist legends on a scale and with a distinctness found nowhere else in India. The sculptures of Amravati—some of which may be contemporary, or only slightly earlier—are what most nearly approach them; but, as in most cases, painting admits of greater freedom and greater variety of incident than sculpture ever does, and certainly in this instance vindicates its claim to greater phonetic power. Many of the frets and architectural details painted on the roofs and pillars of these and in viharas are also of great elegance and appropriateness, and, when combined with the architecture, make up a whole un{157}rivalled in India for its ethnographic as well as for its architectural beauty.

Fortunately the age of these two caves is not doubtful; there is a long inscription on each, much mutilated it must be confessed, but of which enough can be made out to show that they were excavated by kings of the Vindhyasacti race, one of whom, Pravarasena, whose name appears in the inscription on No. 16, married a daughter of Maharaja Deva, alias Chandra-gupta.[191] We have inscriptions of the last king dated 82 and 93 of the Gupta era, or in A.D. 400 and 411, and his son-in-law may probably have reigned a few years later. We may consequently safely place these two caves in the first half of the 5th century. They are thus slightly more modern than the Yadnya Sri cave, No. 15, at Nassick, which is exactly the result we would expect to arrive at from their architecture and the form of their sanctuaries.

Their great interest, therefore, from a historical point of view, consists in their being almost unique specimens of the architecture and arts of India during the great Gupta period, when Theodosius II. was emperor of the East, and at a time when Bahram Gaur, the Sassanian, is said to have visited India. He reigned 420 to 440; if he did visit India, it must have been while they were in course of being excavated.[192]

Nos. 18, 19, and 20 succeed this group, both in position and in style, and probably occupied the remaining half of the 5th century in construction, bringing down our history to about A.D. 500.

Before proceeding further in this direction, the cave-diggers seem to have turned back and excavated Nos. 8, 7, and 6. The last named is the only two-storeyed cave at Ajunta, and would be very interesting if it were not so fearfully ruined by damp and decay, owing to the faulty nature of the rock in which it is excavated. No. 7 has a singularly elegant verandah, broken by two projecting pavilions.[193] Internally, it is small, and occupied by a whole pantheon of Buddhas. It resembles, in fact, in almost every respect, No. 17 at Nassick, with which it is, no doubt, contemporary.

There still remain the five first caves at the northern end, and the six last at the southern: one of these is a chaitya, the other ten are viharas of greater or less dimensions. Some are only commenced,{158} and two, Nos. 4 and 24, which were intended to have been the finest of the series, are left in a very incomplete state: interesting, however, as showing the whole process of an excavation from its commencement to its completion. Both these were intended to be 28-pillared caves, and the hall of No. 4 measures 84 ft. by 89 ft.

Caves Nos. 1 and 2 are among the most richly-sculptured of the caves. The façade, indeed, of No. 1 is the most elaborate and beautiful of its class at Ajunta, and with the corresponding caves at the opposite end conveys a higher idea of the perfection to which decorative sculpture had attained at that age than anything else at Ajunta. With the last chaitya, which belongs to this group, these caves carry our history down certainly into the 7th century. The work in the unfinished caves, I fancy, must have been arrested by the troubles which took place in Central India about the year 650, or shortly afterwards, when, I fancy, the persecution of the Buddhists commenced, and after which it is hardly probable that any community of that faith would have leisure or means to carry out any works, on such a scale at least, as these Ajunta viharas.

It is, of course, impossible, without a much greater amount of illustration than is compatible with the nature of this work, to convey to those who have not seen them any idea of the various points of interest found in these caves; but it is to be hoped that a complete series of illustrations of them may be one day given to the world. The materials for this nearly existed when the disastrous fire at the Crystal Palace, in 1860, destroyed Major Gill’s facsimiles of the paintings, which can hardly now be replaced.[194] A good deal, however, may be, and it is hoped will be, done, as they afford a complete series of examples of Buddhist art without any admixture from Hinduism, or any other religion extending from 200 years before Christ to 600 or 700 years after his era; and besides illustrating the arts and feelings of those ages, they form a chronometric scale by which to judge of, and synchronise other known series with which, however, they differ in several important particulars. For instance, at Ajunta there is no single example of those bell-shaped Persian capitals to pillars, with{159} waterpot bases; nor is there any example of animals with riders crowning the capitals, such as are found at Bedsa, Karli, Nassick, Salsette, and elsewhere in the Ghâts. These differences seem to point to a western influence, Persian, Saka, or Scythian, or by whatever name we like to designate it, which did not penetrate so far inland as Ajunta or Ellora, but was confined to those regions where we know the foreign influence prevailed.

These, and many more ethnographic distinctions in architecture will, no doubt, be brought out by careful examination and comparisons, from which, when made, it can hardly be doubted that the most important results will be derived.

Bagh.

At a distance about 150 miles a little west of north from Ajunta, and thirty miles west of Mandu, near a little village of the name of Bagh, there exists a series of viharas only little less interesting than the later series at Ajunta. They are situated in a secluded ravine in the side of the range of hills that bounds the valley of the Nerbudda on the north, and were first visited or at least first described by Lieutenant Dangerfield, in the second volume of the ‘Transactions of the Literary Society of Bombay.’ They have since been described more in detail by Dr. Impey in the fifth volume of the ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society.’ Unfortunately the plates that were to accompany that paper were not published with it, but being deposited by the author in the library of the India Office, they are now before me, and from them and from this paper the principal details that follow have been gleaned.

The series consists of eight or nine viharas, some of them of the very first class, but no chaitya hall, nor does any excavation of that class seem ever to have been attempted here. On the other hand, the larger viharas seem to have had a shala or schoolroom attached to them, which may also have been employed for divine service. The fact, however, that the sanctuaries of the viharas generally have a dagoba in them, instead of an image of Buddha, points to a distinction which may hereafter prove of value. On the whole they are purer and simpler than the latest at Ajunta, though most probably of about the same age.

The plan of one has already been given, but it is neither so large nor architecturally so important as the great vihara, shown in plan, Woodcut No. 87. Its great hall is 96 ft. square, and would at Ajunta rank as a twenty-eight pillared cave, like No. 4 there, but inside this are eight pillars ranged octagonally; and at a later age, apparently in consequence of some failure of the roof, four structural pillars{160}—shaded lighter—were introduced. It is not clear from Dr. Impey’s description how the central octagon was originally roofed. He seems to have believed that a dagoba originally stood in the centre, and having been destroyed brought down the roof with it. As, however, there is a dagoba in the sanctuary, this is hardly probable, and it seems much more likely that it was a copy of a structural octagonal dome, such as we find the Jains invariably employing a few centuries afterwards. If this is so, it would be highly interesting that it should be examined by some architect capable of restoring it constructively from such indications as remain. We have hundreds, almost thousands, of these domes supported on eight pillars after the revival in the 10th century, but not one before. If this is one, it might help to restore a missing link in our chain of evidence.

87. Great Vihara, at Bagh.
(From a Plan by Dr. Impey.)

The shala connected with this vihara measures 94 ft. by 44 ft., and the two are joined together by a verandah measuring 220 ft. in length, adorned by twenty free-standing pillars. At one time the whole of the back wall of this gallery was adorned with a series of frescoes, equalling in beauty and in interest those of Ajunta. As in those at Ajunta, the uninitiated would fail to trace among them any symptoms of Buddhism as generally understood. The principal subjects are processions on horseback, or on elephants. In the latter the number of women exceeds that of the men. Dancing and love-making are as usual prominently introduced, and only one small picture, containing two men, can be said to be appropriated to worship.

With one exception, no man or woman has any covering on their heads, and the men generally have the hair cropped short, and with only very small moustaches on the face. Some half-dozen are as{161} dark as the Indians of the present day. The rest are very much fairer, many as fair as Spaniards, and nearly all wear coloured dresses.

We are not at present in a position to say, and may not for a long time be able to feel sure, who the races are that are represented in these frescoes or in those at Ajunta. Negatively we may probably be justified in asserting that they are not the ancestors of the present inhabitants of Rajputana, nor of any of the native races—Bhîls, Gonds, or such like. Are they Sakas, Yavanas, or any of the trans-Indus tribes who, in the first centuries of the Christian Era flowed into India across that river, bringing with them their arts and religious forms? The style of art, especially at Bagh, is very similar to that of Persia at about the same date.

The date of this group of caves seems hardly doubtful. The earliest could not well have been commenced much before A.D. 500; the date of the latest, if our chronology is correct, could not well be carried down beyond 650 or 700, unless it was, that the troubles that convulsed the rest of India after that date did not reach those remote valleys in Rajputana till some time afterwards.

Salsette.

One of the most extensive, but one of the least satisfactory of all the groups of Indian caves, is that generally known as the Kenheri Caves on the Island of Salsette in Bombay Harbour. The great chaitya cave there, as mentioned above, is only a bad copy of the Karli cave, and was excavated in the beginning of the 5th century, and none of the viharas seem to be earlier. The place, however, must have had some sanctity at an earlier date, for there seems no doubt that a tooth of Buddha was enshrined here in the beginning of the 4th century, when these relics were revolutionising the Buddhist world at least at two diametrically opposite points of the coast of India, at Puri, and in this island.[195] It may have been in consequence of the visit of this relic that the island became holy, and it may have been because it was an island, that it remained undisturbed by the troubles of the mainland, and that the practice of excavating caves lasted longer here than in any series above described. Be this as it may, the caves here go straggling on till they fade by almost imperceptible degrees into those of the Hindu religion. The Hindu caves of Montpezir, Kundoty, and Amboli are so like them, and the change takes place so gradually, that it is sometimes difficult to draw the line between the two religions.

Although, therefore, we have not at Salsette any viharas that can compare with those of Nassick, Ajunta, or Bagh, and they nowhere{162} form a series which might assist us in guessing their dates, yet, just because they are so late, and because they do fade so gradually into the next phase, are they worthy of more attention than has been bestowed upon them.

As these caves are so near Bombay, and so easily accessible, it seems strange that they have lately been so much neglected, and no one seems to have visited, or at least described, the outlying groups. What we know of those of Montpezir or Amboli is derived from Daniell’s drawings,[196] made at the end of the last century, or from the travels of Lord Valentia or Niebuhr.[197] The Kenheri group is better known, and I can speak of them from personal knowledge.

A plan of one has already been given (Woodcut No. 77). It is a two-storeyed vihara, and one of the finest here, though it would not be considered remarkable anywhere else. Another, of which a representation is given in my ‘Rock-cut Temples,’ plate 19, represents Avalokiteswara with ten heads,—the only instance I know of in India, though it is common in Thibet in modern times.[198] The others are generally mere cells, or natural caverns slightly improved by art, and hardly worthy of illustration in a general history, though a monograph of these caves would be a most valuable addition to our scanty stock of knowledge.

Dhumnar and Kholvi.

There are no viharas at either of these places which can at all compare, either in dimensions or in interest, with those already described. The largest, at Dhumnar, is that already given in combination with the chaitya, Woodcut No. 65, and, though important, is evidently transitional to another state of matters. Next to this is one called the Great Kacheri; but it is only a six-celled vihara, with a hall about 25 ft. square, encumbered by four pillars on its floor; and near the chaitya above alluded to is a similar hall, but smaller and without cells. At Kholvi there is nothing that can correctly be called a vihara at all. There is, indeed, one large hall, called Bhim’s home, measuring 42 ft. by 22 ft.; but it has no cells, and is much more like what would be called a shala at Bagh than a vihara. The others are mere cells, of no architectural importance.[199]{163}

The fact seems to be that when these two groups of caves were being excavated Buddhism was fast losing its original characteristics, and fading into the bastard Brahmanism that succeeded it. When that took place, we cannot at present exactly say; but I cannot help fancying that this religion may have lingered on, and flourished in the remote wilds of Rajputana[200] or in the island of Salsette long after it had been driven from the neighbourhood of the great cities and from the populous and well-cultivated plains; and these caves, especially those of Kholvi, may have been excavated in the 8th or even in the 9th century of our era.

Ellora.

At Ellora there are numerous viharas attached to the Viswakarma, or the great chaitya above described (p. 128). Like it, however, they are all modern, but on that very account interesting, as showing more clearly than elsewhere the steps by which Buddhist cave-architecture faded into that of the Hindus. Every step of the process can be clearly traced here, though the precise date at which the change took place cannot yet be fixed with certainty.

88. Plan of Dehrwarra, Ellora.
(From Daniel’s ‘Views.’) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

The great vihara, which is also evidently contemporary with the chaitya, is known as the Dehrwarra, and, as will be seen from the plan (Woodcut No. 88), differs considerably from any of those illustrated above. Its dimensions are considerable, being 110 ft. in depth by 70 ft. across the central recesses, its great defect being the lowness of its roof. Its form, too, is exceptional. It looks more like a flat-roofed chaitya, with its three aisles, than an ordinary vihara; and such it probably was intended to be, and, if so, it is curious to observe that at Bedsa (Woodcut No. 49) we had one of the earliest{164} complete viharas, looking like a chaitya in plan; and here we have one of the latest, showing the same confusion of ideas; a thing very common in architectural history, where a new style or a new arrangement generally hampers itself with copying some incongruous form, which it casts off during its vigorous manhood, but to which it returns in its decrepitude—a sure sign that it is passing away.

Close to the Viswakarma is a small and very pretty vihara, in which the sanctuary stands free, with a passage all round it, as in some of the Saiva caves further on; and the appearance of the warders on each side of the door would lead one rather to expect an image of Siva inside than the Buddha which actually occupies it. The details, however, of its architecture are the same as in the great cave.

Communicating with this one is a small square vihara, the roof of which is supported by four pillars of the same detail as the Dookya Ghur, which is the cave next it on the north; but though surrounded by cells it has no sanctuary or images.

Higher up the hill than these are two others containing numerous cells, and one with a very handsome hall, the outer half of which has unfortunately fallen in; enough, however, remains to show not only its plan, but all the details, which very much resemble those of the last group of viharas at Ajunta.

In the sanctuaries of most of these caves are figures of Buddhas sitting with their feet down. On each side of the image in the principal one are nine figures of Buddhas, or rather Bodhisatwas, seated cross-legged, and below them three and three figures, some cross-legged, and others standing, probably devotees, and one of them a woman.

Neither of these caves have been entirely finished.

There is still another group of these small viharas, called the Chumarwarra, or (if I understand correctly) the Chumars’ (or ‘shoe-makers’) quarter. The first is square, with twelve pillars on the same plan as those at Ajunta, though the detail is similar to the Viswakarma. There are cells, and in the sanctuary Buddha sitting with the feet down; it never has been finished, and is now much ruined.

The second is similar in plan, though the pillars are of the cushion form of Elephanta and the Dehrwarra, but the capitals are much better formed than in the last example, and more ornamented; the lateral galleries here contain figures of Buddha, all like the one in the sanctuary, sitting with their feet down, and there are only two cells on each side of the sanctuary.

The last is a small plain vihara with cells, but without pillars, and much ruined.

{165}

The whole of the caves in this group resemble one another so much in detail and execution that it is difficult to make out any succession among them, and it is probable that they were all excavated within the same century as the Viswakarma.

The next three temples are particularly interesting to the antiquarian, as pointing out the successive steps by which the Buddhistical caves merged into the Brahmanical.

The first is the Do Tal, or Dookya Ghur, a Buddhist vihara of two storeys; most of its details are so similar to those above described that it may be assumed to be, without doubt, of the same age. It is strictly Buddhistic in all its details, and shows no more tendency towards Brahmanism than what was pointed out in speaking of the Viswakarma. It apparently was intended to have had three storeys, but has been left unfinished.

The next, or Teen Tal, is very similar to the last in arrangement and detail, and its sculptures are all Buddhistical, though deviating so far from the usual simplicity of that style as almost to justify the Brahmans in appropriating them as they have done.

The third, the Das Avatar, is another two-storeyed cave, very similar in all its architectural details to the two preceding, but the sculptures are all Brahmanical. At first sight, it seems as if the excavation had been made by the Buddhists, and appropriated and finished by their successors. This may be true to a certain extent, but on a more careful examination it appears more probable that we owe it entirely to the Brahmans. It is evidently the earliest Brahmanical temple here, and it is natural to suppose that when the Saivites first attempted to rival their antagonists in cave-temples they should follow the only models that existed, merely appropriating them to their own worship. The circumstance, however, that makes this most probable, is the existence of a pseudo-structural mantapa, or shrine of Nundi, in the courtyard; this evidently must have been a part of the original design, or the rock would not have been left here for it, and it is a model of the usual structural building found in Saiva temples in different parts of India. This is a piece of bad grammar the Buddhists never were guilty of; their excavations always are caves, whilst the great characteristic of Brahmanical excavations, as distinguished from that of their predecessors, is that they generally copied structural buildings: a system that rose to its greatest height in the Kylas, to be described further on. The Buddhist excavations, on the contrary, were always caves and nothing else.

It is not easy, in the present state of our knowledge, to determine whether the Ellora Buddhist group is later or earlier than those of Dhumnar and Kholvi. It is certainly finer than either, and conforms more closely with the traditions of the style in its palmiest days; but that may be owing to local circumstances, of which we have no precise knowledge. The manner, however, in which it fades into the Hindu{166} group is in itself sufficient to prove how late it is. If we take A.D. 600 as the medium date for the Viswakarma and its surroundings, and A.D. 750 as a time when the last trace of Buddhism had disappeared from western India, we shall probably not err to any great extent; but we must wait for some inscriptions or more precise data before attempting to speak with precision on the subject.

A great deal more requires to be done before this great cartoon can be filled up with anything like completeness; but in the meanwhile it is satisfactory to know that in these “rock-cut temples,” eked out by the few structural examples that exist, we have a complete history of the arts and liturgies of the Buddhists for the thousand years that ranged from B.C. 250 to A.D. 750; and that, when any one with zeal and intelligence enough for the purpose will devote himself to the task, he will be able to give us a more vivid and far more authentic account of this remarkable form of faith than can be gathered from any books whose existence is now known to us.

Junir.

When the history of the cave-temples of western India comes to be written in anything like a complete and exhaustive manner, the groups situated near and around the town of Junir, about half-way between Nassick and Poonah, will occupy a prominent position in the series. There are not, it is true, in this locality any chaityas so magnificent as that at Karli, nor any probably so old as those at Bhaja and Bedsa; but there is one chaitya, both in plan and dimensions, very like that at Nassick and probably of the same age, and one vihara, at least, quite equal to the finest at that place. The great interest of the series, however, consists in its possessing examples of forms not known elsewhere. There are, for instance, certainly two, probably three, chaitya caves, with square terminations and without internal pillars, and one circular cave which is quite unique so far as we at present know.

These caves have long been known to antiquarians. In 1833 Colonel Sykes published a series of inscriptions copied from them, but without any description of the caves themselves.[201] In 1847, Dr. Bird noticed them in his ‘Historical Researches,’ with some wretched lithographs, so bad as to be almost unintelligible; in 1850, Dr. Wilson described them in the ‘Bombay Journal;’ and in 1857 Dr. Stevenson republished their inscriptions, with translations, in the eighth volume of the same journal; and lastly Mr. Sinclair of the Bombay Civil Service, wrote an account of them in the ‘Indian Antiquary’ for February, 1874. Notwithstanding all this, we are{167} still without drawings or photographs which would enable us to understand their peculiarities. The late Dr. Bhau Daji had a set of negatives taken, but never would allow any prints to be made from them; and, when Mr. Burgess visited the caves last autumn, he did not take a photographic apparatus with him, as he depended on obtaining, through Government, the use of Dr. Bhau Daji’s negatives. This has not yet been effected, and till it is this series is hardly available for the purposes of our history, yet it can hardly be passed over in silence.

The great peculiarity of the group is the extreme simplicity of the caves composing it. They are too early to have any figures of Buddha himself, but there are not even any of these figures of men and women which we meet with at Karli and elsewhere. Everything at Junir wears an aspect of simplicity and severity, due partly to the antiquity of the caves of course, but, so far as at present known, unequalled elsewhere. One exception—but it is in the most modern cave here—is that Sri, with her two elephants pouring water over her, occupies the frontispiece of a chaitya cave.[202] Though so ubiquitous and continuous through all ages, it is seldom this goddess occupies so very important a position as she does here; but her history has still to be written.

89. Circular Cave, Junir. (From a Plan by Mr. Burgess.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in. | 90. Section of Circular Cave, Junir. (From a Drawing by Mr. Burgess.) Scale 25 ft. to 1 in.

The annexed plan and section (Woodcuts Nos. 89, 90) will explain the form of the circular cave above alluded to. It is not large, only 25 ft. 6 in. across, while its roof is supported by twelve plain octagonal pillars which surround the dagoba. The tee has been removed from the dagoba to convert it into a lingam of Siva, in which form it is now worshipped; a fact that suggests the idea—I fancy a very probable one—that the lingam is really a miniature dagoba, though bearing a different meaning now, and that it was really originally copied from that Buddhist emblem. The interest of the arrangement of this cave will be more apparent when we come to describe the dagobas at Ceylon, which were encircled with pillars in the same manner as{168} this one. Meanwhile the annexed representation (Woodcut No. 91) of a circular temple from the Buddhist sculptures at Bharhut may enable us to realise, to some extent at least, the external form of these temples, which probably were much more common in ancient times than any remains we now possess would justify us in assuming.

91. Round Temple and part of Palace, from a bas-relief at Bharhut.

Besides this group at Junir, there is one apparently equally extensive near Aurungabad, and two others, still more extensive, at Daraseo, or Darasinha, and at Hazar Kotri, in the Nizam’s territories; but they are even less known than the Junir group, and there are several others whose existence is only known to us by hearsay. If Mr. Burgess is enabled to continue his explorations a few years longer, they may be brought within the domain of history. At present, like those at Junir, they are not available for any historical or scientific purpose.{169}

## CHAPTER VII.
GANDHARA MONASTERIES.

CONTENTS.

Monasteries at Jamalgiri, Takht-i-Bahi, and Shah Dehri.

Few of the recent discoveries in India promise to be more fruitful of important results for the elucidation of the archæology of India than those obtained from the recent excavations of ruined monasteries in the neighbourhood of Peshawur. A great deal still remains to be done before we can speak with certainty with regard either to their age or origin, but enough is known of them to make it certain that the materials there exist for settling not only the question of the amount of influence classical art exercised on that of India, but also for solving many problems of Buddhist archæology and art.

As mentioned above, it is from their coins, and from them only, that the names of most of the kings of Bactria and their successors have been recovered; but we have not yet found a vestige of a building that can be said to have been erected by them or in their age, nor one piece of sculpture that, so far as we now know, could have been executed before their downfall, about B.C. 130. This, however, may be owing to the fact that Bactria proper has long been inhabited by fanatic Moslems, who destroy any representations of the human form they meet with, and no excavations for hidden examples have yet been undertaken in their country; while it is still uncertain how far the influence of the true Bactrians extended eastward, and whether, in fact, they ever really possessed the valley of Peshawur, where all the sculptures yet discovered have been found. No one, in fact, suspected their existence in our own territory till Lieutenants Lumsden and Stokes, in 1852, partially explored the half-buried monastery at Jamalgiri, which had been discovered by General Cunningham in 1848. It is situated about thirty-six miles north-east from Peshawur, and from it these officers excavated a considerable number of sculptures, which afterwards came into the possession of the Hon. E. Clive Bayley. He published an account of them in the ‘Journal of the Bengal Asiatic Society,’ in 1853, and brought the collection itself over to this country. Unfortunately, they were utterly destroyed in the disastrous fire that occurred at the Crystal Palace, where they were{170} being exhibited in 1860, and this before they had been photographed, or any serious attempt made to compare them with other sculptures.

Since that time other collections have been dug out of another monastery eight miles further westward, at a place called Takht-i-Bahi, and by Dr. Bellew at a third locality, ten miles southward, called Sahri Bhalol, some of which have found their way to this country; and two years ago Dr. Leitner brought home an extensive collection, principally from Takht-i-Bahi. The bulk of the sculptures found in these places have been deposited in the Lahore Museum, where upwards of 800 specimens of this class of art now exist, and many are being added every season. Some of these have been photographed,[203] and these representations, together with the specimens brought home, are sufficient to enable a student to obtain a fair general idea of the art they represent. The worst thing is, that the excavations have been so unsystematically carried on that it is impossible to ascertain in most instances where the sculptures came from,[204] and in almost no instance can the position of any one piece of sculpture be fixed with anything like certainty.[205]

The following plans (Woodcuts Nos. 92, 93), of the two principal monasteries which have been excavated in the vicinity of Peshawur, will explain their arrangements in so far as they have yet been made out. As will be seen at a glance, they are very similar to each other,{171}

92. Plan of Monastery at Jamalgiri. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

93. Plan of Monastery at Takht-i-Bahi. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

or at least consist of the same parts. First a circular or square court, AA, surrounded by cells, too small for residence, and evidently intended to contain images, though none were found in situ. In the centre of each stands a circular or square platform or altar, approached by steps. The circular one at Jamalgiri is adorned with cross-legged,{172} conventional, seated figures of Buddha, the square one at Takht-i-Bahi by two rows of pilasters one over the other.[206] Beyond this is an oblong court, BB, called the pantheon, from the number of images, small models of topes, and votive offerings of all sorts, that are found in it. It, like the last court, is surrounded by niches for images. Beyond this again the vihara or residence, CC, with the usual residential cells. At Takht-i-Bahi there is a square court, D, surrounded by a high wall with only one door leading into it. A corresponding court exists at Jamalgiri; but so far detached that it could not be included in the woodcut. It is called the cemetery, and probably not without reason, as Turner in his ‘Embassy to Thibet’[207] describes a similar enclosure at Teshoo Loomboo in which the bodies of the deceased monks were exposed to be devoured by the birds, and what happened there in 1800 may very well have been practised at Peshawur at a much earlier age.

When we attempt to compare these plans with those of our rock-cut examples in India, we at once perceive the difficulty of comparing structural with rock-cut examples. The monastery or residential parts are the only ones readily recognised. The pantheon does not apparently exist at Ajunta, nor is anything analogous to it attached to other series of caves, but a group of small rock-cut dagobas exists just outside the cave at Bhaja, and a much more extensive one at Kenheri,[208] and similar groups may have existed elsewhere. Numbers of small models of topes and votive offerings are found in the neighbourhood of all Buddhist establishments, and were originally no doubt deposited in some such place as this. The circular or square altar is, however, a feature quite new to us, and takes the place of the dagoba in all the rock-cut chaitya halls. From its having steps to ascend to it, it seems as if it was intended either for a platform from which either a congregation could be addressed, or a prayer offered up to a deity. If, however, it was really a dagoba, as General Cunningham supposes, that difficulty disappears, and on the whole I am inclined to believe he may be right in this decision.{173}

One of the most remarkable ornamental features that adorn this monastery is a series of bas-reliefs that adorn the front of the steps of the stairs leading from the so-called Pantheon to the circular court at Jamalgiri. They are sixteen in number, and each is adorned with a bas-relief containing twenty, thirty, or forty figures according to the subject.[209] Among these the Wessantara and Sama jatakas can easily be recognised,[210] and so may others when carefully examined. Besides these there are representations of the chase, processions, dancing, and domestic scenes of various kinds.

94. Corinthian Capital from Jamalgiri.
(From a Photograph.)

95. Corinthian Capital from Jamalgiri.
(From a Photograph.)[211

In fact such a series of sixteen bas-reliefs, one over another, is hardly known to exist anywhere else, but is here only an appropriate part of an exuberance of sculptural ornamentation hardly to be matched, as existing in so small a space, in any other building of its class.{174}

The architecture of this monastery seems to have been of singular richness. General Cunningham brought away a dozen of capitals of the Corinthian order, and others exist in the Lahore Museum. As will be seen from the last two illustrations (Nos. 94, 95), they are unmistakably classical, but of a form to which it is not at first sight easy to assign a date. They are more Greek than Roman in the character of their foliage, but more Roman than Greek in the form of their volutes and general design. Perhaps it would be correct to say they are more Byzantine than either, but, till we have detailed drawings and know more of their surroundings, it is difficult to give a positive opinion as to their age.

Not one of these was found in situ, nor, apparently, one quite entire, so that their use or position is not at first sight apparent. Some of them were square, and it is consequently not difficult to see they may have formed the caps of the antæ on each side of the cells, and are so represented in General Cunningham’s plate (15). If this is so, the circular ones must have been placed on short circular pillars, one on each side, forming a porch to the cells. One at least seems to have stood free—like a stambha—and, as the General represents it on plate 48, may have carried a group of elephants on its head.

All these capitals were apparently originally richly gilt, and most of them, as well as some of the best of the sculptures, show traces of gilding at the present day,[212] and, as others show traces of colour, the effect of the whole must have been gorgeous in the extreme. From the analogy of what we find in the contemporary caves at Ajunta and Bagh, as well as elsewhere, there can be little doubt that fresco-painting was also employed: but no gilding, as far as I know, has been found in India, nor indeed any analogue to the Corinthian capital. All the capitals found in India are either such as grew out of the necessities of their own wooden construction, or were copied from bell-shaped forms we are familiar with at Persepolis, where alone in Central Asia they seem to have been carried out in stone. There is little doubt, however, that before the time of the Achæmenians the same forms were used in wood by the Assyrians;[213] and they may have been so employed down to the time of Alexander, if not later. Certain it is, at all events, that this was the earliest form we know of employed in lithic architecture in India, and the one that retained its footing there certainly till long after the Christian Era, and also among the Gandhara sculptures probably to a very late date.

It is not difficult to restore, approximately, the front of the cells in these monasteries, from the numerous representations of them{175} found among the ruins, where they are used as conventional frames for sculptures. It probably was owing to the fact that their fronts may have been adorned with paintings representing scenes from the life of Buddha, or emblems of various sorts, that these miniature representations of them were used to convey the same design in sculpture. The form of the wooden framework which filled the upper part of all the great windows of the chaitya halls, from the earliest known examples, is also used for the same purpose in these Gandhara monasteries. Few things among these sculptures are more common than these semicircular frames, filled with sculpture of the most varied design. They are in fact the counterparts of what would have been carried out in painted glass had they possessed such a material.

It is to be feared that it is hardly likely we shall now recover one of these cells or chapels in so perfect a state as to feel sure of its form and ornamentation. It would, however, be an immense gain to our knowledge of the subject if one were found, for it is hardly safe to depend on restorations made from conventional representations.

Meanwhile there is one monument in India which—mutatis mutandis—reproduces them with considerable exactness. The small detached rath at Mahavellipore is both in plan and dimensions, as well as in design, an almost exact reproduction of these Jamalgiri cells. Its lower front is entirely open, flanked by two detached pillars. Above this are two roofs, with a narrow waist between them—somewhat differently arranged it must be confessed, but still extremely similar. In the Jamalgiri representations of these cells everything is simplified to admit of the display of sculpture. At Mahavellipore all the architectural features are retained, but they are still marvellously alike, so much so, that there seems no doubt this little rath (Woodcut No. 181, p. 328), with its circular termination, is as exact a copy of what a Buddhist chaitya hall was at the time it was carved, as that the great rath (Woodcut No. 66) is a correct reproduction of a Buddhist vihara at the same period.

If this is so, these Gandhara sculptures and these raths represent the chaitya hall of the Buddhists in a much more complicated and elaborate form than we find it in the simple but majestic examples at Karli, Nassick, or Ajunta. The Jamalgiri cells need not be so modern as the rath at Mahavellipore, but they are certainly approaching to it[214] as nearly in date as they are in form.

Quite recently, General Cunningham has dug out a small vihara{176} at Shah Dehri, the ancient Taxila, which seems more ancient than these Peshawur monasteries. As will be seen from the plan (Woodcut No. 96), it is not only small in dimensions, but simple in its arrangements—as simple, indeed, as any of those at Cuttack or in the western Ghâts. Like them it has a raised bench, not however divided into beds as there, but more like a continuous seat. It no doubt, however, was used for both purposes. Its most remarkable peculiarity, however, is its Ionic order. As will be seen, the bases of the pillars are of the usual form, and as correct as any that could be found in Greece or Rome, from before the Christian Era to the age of Constantine, and, though the capital is not fully made out, there can be little doubt what was intended (Woodcut No. 97); twelve coins of Azes were found close by, from which it may be inferred the building was of his age, or belonging to the first century B.C.,[215] and there is nothing in the architecture to militate against this idea. It seems the oldest thing yet found in this province.

96. Plan of Ionic Monastery, Shah Dehri. (From a Plan by General Cunningham.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 inch.

97. Ionic Pillar, Shah Dehri. (From a Drawing by General Cunningham.)

The extraordinary classical character and the beauty of the sculptures found in these Gandhara monasteries is of such surpassing interest for the history of Indian art, that it is of the utmost importance their age should be determined, if it is possible to do so. At present, sufficient materials do not exist in this country to enable the general public to form even an opinion on any argument that may be brought forward on the subject; nor will they be in a position to do so till the Government can be induced to spend the trifling sum required to bring some of them home. They are quite thrown away where they now are; here, they would hardly be surpassed in interest by any recent discoveries of the same class. Pending{177} this, the reader must be content with such a statement of the argument as may be put forward by those who have access to photographs and such materials as are not available to the general public.[216] It it is understood that General Cunningham intends to publish photographs of the 165 objects in his collection. When this is done, it will supply the want to a certain extent, but a really correct judgment can only be formed on an actual inspection of the objects themselves.

Among Indian antiquaries there are two different views as to the age of these sculptures, regarding either of which a great deal may be urged with a considerable degree of plausibility. The first is, that the Bactrian Greeks carried with them into Asia the principles of Grecian sculpture and the forms of Grecian architecture, and either during their supremacy or after their expulsion from Bactria established a school of classical art in the Peshawur valley. It further assumes that, when Buddhism was established there under Kanishka and his successors, it bloomed into that rich and varied development we find exhibited in these Gandhara monasteries. This is the view adopted by General Cunningham, who, however, admits that, as all the sculptures are Buddhist, the earliest must be limited to the age of Kanishka, which he assumes to be about B.C. 40,[217] and that they extend to A.D. 100, or thereabouts.

The other theory equally admits the presence of the classical element, derived from the previous existence of the Bactrian Greeks, but spreads the development of the classical feeling through Buddhist art over the whole period during which it existed in the valley, or from the 1st to the 7th or 8th century of our era, and ascribes its peculiar forms as much, if not more, to constant communication with the West, from the age of Augustus to that of Justinian, rather than to the original seed planted there by the Bactrians.

Confining the argument as much as possible to the instances above quoted, either it is that these Corinthian capitals are a local development of forms the Greeks took with them to Bactria, or they were executed under Western influence when the classical orders had lost their original form, after the age of Constantine. We know perfectly the history of the Corinthian capitals in Italy, in Greece, and in Syria, between the ages of Augustus and Aurelian at all events (A.D. 270); and we know that it requires a practised and well-educated eye to distinguish between the capitals of the{178} Pantheon of Agrippa and those last executed at Baalbec or Palmyra. The entablatures show considerable progress, but the capitals were so stereotyped that it is evident, if any Greek or Roman artists had designed capitals in Gandhara during the period just alluded to, we could predicate exactly what they would have been. After Constantine, however, the design of the capitals went wild, if the expression may be used. The practice of springing arches from them, instead of their supporting horizontal architraves, required a total change, and in the West it produced exactly the same effects that we find in Gandhara. The capitals, for instance, in the churches of St. Demetrius and that now known as the Eski Jouma at Salonica, both built in the early part of the 5th century, are almost identical in design with these;[218] and many in the churches in Syria and Asia Minor[219] show the same “abandon” of design, though frequently in another direction.

The presence of little cross-legged figures of Buddha among the foliage of the capitals is another sign of a comparatively modern age. The first prominent example of the practice, I believe, in classical art, seems to be found in the Baths of Caracalla, at Rome (A.D. 312-330);[220] but it certainly did not become common till long afterwards, and only general in what may be called mediæval art.[221] It is not, however, so much in the presence of figures of Buddha on these capitals that I would insist on as an indication of age, as on their presence in the monastery at all.

In the first place, I believe it is correct to state that no statue of Buddha, in any of his conventional attitudes, has been found in India executed as early as the Christian Era. Those on the façade at Karli and in the western caves are avowedly insertions of the 4th or 5th centuries or later. There are none belonging to the eastern caves; nor any found at Buddh Gaya, Bharhut, or Sanchi; nor do I know of any one in India that can be dated before A.D. 100. In these Gandhara monasteries they are very frequent, and of a type which in India would be assumed to be certainly as late as the 4th or 5th century; some of them very much later.

It is true Buddhist books tell us frequently of statues of Buddha{179} having been made at much earlier dates.[222] But Indian books have this fatal defect, that they represent facts and beliefs at the time they were written, or acquired the forms in which we now find them, without much reference to contemporary authorities or facts at the time at which they are supposed to have happened. Consequently, till we get some book that assumed its present shape before A.D. 400,[223] their testimony is of very little avail in the controversy.

Besides these figures of Buddha, there are a great number of figures which General Cunningham supposes represent kings. This can hardly be the case, as they have all got nimbuses or glories at the back of their heads. All have the tika on their foreheads, as Buddha has, and none have any kingly attributes, but all wear the same ornaments and amulets. The first impression was, they may represent Bodhisatwas, or Buddhist saints; but, as no similar figures occur anywhere in India, it is not easy to feel certain on this point. If I may be allowed to hazard a guess, I would suggest that they may represent the patriarchs who presided over the Church from the time of Amanda till it ceased to be a living institution in India. Nagárjuna was one of the most important of these, and, if this theory is correct, his statue will certainly be found among the series; but this is, I fear, a point that must be left for future investigation.[224] The misfortune is, that no inscribed statue has yet been found in Gandhara, and, till it is, all identification must be more or less guess-work or conjecture.

A more important point than the mere presence of these conventional figures of Buddha or of saints in these monasteries, is their excessive reduplication, which renders it probable that they are very much more modern than is generally assumed.

In India, no building or cave is known with a date anterior to, say, A.D. 300 or 400, in which more than one such figure is repre{180}sented. Even at Amravati they do not occur on the great rail which was erected in the beginning of the 4th century (ante, p. 100), but appear first on the inner rail which was added a century afterwards: and they first occur in such caves as No. 19 and No. 26 at Ajunta, and in the later caves in the island of Salsette, none of which seem to be earlier than A.D. 500, if so early.

In the Gandhara monasteries they exist literally in hundreds—on the base of the altars or stupas, on the walls, and in the cells. The latter is, indeed, the most remarkable peculiarity of any. In no Buddhist monument in India, so far as is known, have the monks been thrust out of their cells to make way for images. The practice is universal with the Jains, and in the latest Buddhist monuments the cells are ignored; but here we have what in all earlier Buddhist monuments would be cells surrounding courts or halls, but all filled with images of Buddha or saints. To such an extent is this carried, that if the plans of these monasteries had been submitted to me, with merely a verbal or written description of their sculptures, I would unhesitatingly have pronounced them to be Jaina temples of the 9th or 10th century. The sculptures, of course, negative any such adscription, but the similarity of their plans is most striking.

Considerable allowance must also be made for the fact that the Mahayana, or Greater Translation, introduced in the north of India by Nagárjuna, was considerably in advance of the Hinayana school of Central India in all complications of ritual observances. Making, however, an allowance of one or even two centuries for this, it is difficult to believe that any of these monasteries yet brought to light are earlier than the 4th or 5th century.

If I am correct in assigning the outer casing of the Manikyala tope to the beginning of the 8th century (ante, p. 83), there is certainly no à priori improbability in this view. The pilasters that surround its base are so similar to those represented in the bas-reliefs of the monasteries[225] that they must belong nearly to the same age. Those of the tope are less classical, it is true, than those of the bas-reliefs, and may, therefore, be more modern; but they cannot be very far apart.

All these statues of Buddha, or of Buddhist saints, in the Gandhara monasteries, have a peculiarity which will interest the Christian archæologist. Without exception, they have a nimbus or circular disc behind their heads. This does not occur at Sanchi in the 1st century of our era, nor, so far as is known, in any sculpture, on any rail, or in{181} any cave, before it appears at Amravati on the great rail, in the 4th century of our era. Earlier examples may be found, but till they are, its presence militates against the idea that these sculptures can be so early as the 1st century after Christ, and, with the other evidence, would seem to indicate a much more modern date.

One other argument seems to bear directly on this point. From what has been said above (ante, p. 76), it appears that the erection of the topes in Gandhara was spread pretty evenly over the whole time that elapsed from the Christian Era till Buddhism ceased to be the religion of the country, in the 7th or 8th century; and that the most flourishing period was about the year A.D. 400, when Fa Hian visited the country. It seems reasonable to suppose that the erection of the monasteries would follow the same course, and that we might expect their greatest development to be simultaneous. To compress the monasteries and their sculptures within the limits of the first century after Christ would seem to violate all the probabilities of the case.

In addition to all this local evidence, when we come to compare these sculptures with those of the western world, especially with those of sarcophagi or the ivories of the lower empire, it seems impossible not to be struck with the many points of resemblance they present. There are many of the Gandhara bas-reliefs which, if transferred to the Lateran Museum, and labelled as “Early Christian,” would pass muster with ninety-nine people out of one hundred who visit that collection. There may be one or two that might be described as belonging to as early an age as that of Hadrian, but generally they would seem of later date.

Among the ivories, those about the time of Constantine present about the same jumble of the classical orders, the same reminiscence of classical art in the figure-sculpture, mixed up with the incongruities borrowed from extraneous sources which it is difficult to account for; but both in their perfections and their faults they seem so distinctly to belong to the same class of art that it is difficult to believe they do not belong to the same age. The great difficulty here is to know what equation we ought to allow for distance in space which may have the same effect as time in producing apparent differences; but this hardly seems to have been of much importance here.

Against all this may be urged the difficulty of understanding how such direct and important influence could have been exercised by the Byzantines in this remote province without its leaving any trace of its existence on the arts of the Parthians or Sassanians, whose kingdom lay between, and without our having any written record of such intimate relations. It is difficult, of course, but, if the facts are as stated above, such negative inferences must make way before the posi{182}tive testimony of the sculptures themselves. Till within the last very few years no one dreamt of classical art having any such influence at any age on the arts of Gandhara. That being established in contradiction of all previously conceived ideas, the time at which it took place ought to be ascertainable with comparative facility; and, in so far as any written evidence is concerned, may have been as probably at or after the time of Constantine, as at or after that of Augustus.

It would be easy to extend this argument to any length; but without producing the data on which it is based, or giving references to drawings and photographs which have not been published, it would hardly carry conviction to the minds of those who have not access to means of information not yet made public.[226] To avoid, therefore, being tedious, perhaps I may be allowed to state that, having given the best attention to the materials at my command, the conclusion I have arrived at is, that though some of these Gandhara sculptures probably are as early as the 1st century of the Christian Era, the bulk of those at Jamalgiri and more especially those at Takht-i-Bahi, are subsequent to the 3rd and 4th, and that the series extends down to the 8th—till, in fact, the time when Buddhism was obliterated in these countries.

The discovery of some new fact, or of an inscription on a piece of sculpture either with a date or a king’s name that can be recognised, may any day settle beyond dispute which of these views is the correct one. Meanwhile, however, as the evidence at present stands, it seems hardly doubtful that the theory which assigns the more modern date to these sculptures, is that which accords best with all that has hitherto been brought to light, or with the history of the Buddhist religion as at present known.

If this is so, it is evident that the term Græco-Bactrian, or Græco-Buddhist, which has been applied to these sculptures, is a misnomer. The Bactrians may have sown the seeds of a classical style in these parts, but the art we now find there would be more properly called Indo-Roman or Indo-Byzantine, and must have been nourished and kept up by constant communication between the East and the West during the period at which it was most flourishing, which may be described as that intervening between the age of Constantine and that of Justinian.{183}

From what has been said above regarding the sculptures of Bharhut and Sanchi, it appears evident that the Indians had a school of art of their own before they knew anything of the arts of the western world; but that native art seems to have had very little influence on the arts of Gandhara. The western arts, on the contrary, acting through that country, seem to have had considerable influence on those of India at periods subsequent to the Christian Era. It seems at least almost impossible to escape the conviction that the arts of Amravati and the later caves, say of the Gupta period, betray most marked evidence of Western influence, and it seems that it is only through Gandhara that it can have reached them.

So strongly marked is all this that it may become a subject of an interesting investigation to inquire whether the Greeks were not the first who taught the Indians idolatry. There is no trace of images in the Vedas or in the laws of Manu, or any of the older books or traditions of the Hindus. As repeatedly mentioned, there is as little trace of any image of Buddha or Buddhist figures being set up for worship before the Christian Era, or for a century after it. But the earliest, the finest, and the most essentially classical figures of Buddha are to be found in Gandhara, and, so far as we at present know, of an earlier date there than any found in India Proper.

If General Cunningham’s sculptures or the contents of the Lahore Museum could only be made available to the learned in Europe, with the requisite local information, they would, I fancy, at once supersede the meagre and most unsatisfactory written details which have alone come down to us, and would throw a flood of light on one of the most interesting but most obscure chapters of the history of the commerce and of the early intercourse between the western and the eastern world.

Pending this being done, we already know enough to open our eyes to many things that promise to result in the most interesting discoveries, and to teach us to cease to wonder at many things which hitherto appeared inexplicable. If, for instance, it is not true that the King of Taxila, in the first century, spoke good Greek, as Apollonius of Tyana would persuade us he did, we know at least that he practised Greek architecture. If St. Thomas did not visit Gondophares, king of Gandhara, in the same century, many, at least, of his countrymen did, and there is no à priori reason why he should not have done so also. If there are traces of Christian doctrine in the ‘Bhagavat Gita,’ and of classical learning in other poetic works of the Hindus, we now know at least where they may have come from. In short, when we realise how strongly European influence prevailed in Gandhara in the first five or six centuries after Christ, and think how many thousands, it may be millions, crossed the Indus, going eastward during that period, and through that country, we ought not{184} to be surprised at any amount of Western thought or art we may find in India. These, however, are problems that are only just dawning upon us, and which are certainly not yet ripe for solution, though it may be most important they should be stated as early as possible, as it seems evident that the materials certainly exist from which an early answer may be obtained.

In the meanwhile the question that bears most directly on the subject now in hand is the inquiry, how far the undoubted classical influence shown in these Gandhara sculptures is due to the seed sown by the Bactrian Greeks during the existence of their kingdom there, and how much to the direct influence of Rome and Byzantium between the times of Augustus and Justinian? Both, most probably, had a part in producing this remarkable result; but, so far as we at present know, it seems that the latter was very much more important than the former cause, and that in the first centuries of the Christian Era the civilisation of the West exercised an influence on the arts and religion of the inhabitants of this part of India far greater than has hitherto been suspected.

Feet of Buddha. (From a bas-relief at Amravati.)

{185}

## CHAPTER VIII.
CEYLON.

CONTENTS.

Introductory—Anuradhapura—Pollonarua.

Introductory.

If the materials existed for writing it in anything like a complete and satisfactory manner, there are few chapters in this history that ought to be so interesting or instructive as that which treats of the architecture of Ceylon. It alone, of all known countries, contains a complete series of Buddhist monuments extending from the time of Asoka to the present day, and in the ‘Mahawanso’ it alone possesses a history so detailed and so authentic, that the dates and purposes of the earlier buildings can be ascertained with very tolerable precision. Besides its own intrinsic interest, if it were possible to compare this unbroken series with its ascertained dates with the fragmentary groups on the continent of India, its parallelisms might throw much light on many questions that are obscure and uncertain, and the whole acquire a consistency that is now only too evidently wanting. Unfortunately, no one has yet visited the island who was possessed of the necessary qualifications to supply the information necessary for these purposes. Sir Emerson Tennent’s book, published in 1859, is still the best work on the subject. He had, however, no special qualifications for the task, beyond what were to be expected from any well-educated gentleman of talent, and his description of the buildings[227] is only meant for popular reading.

The two papers by Captain Chapman, in the third volume of the ‘Transactions,’ and thirteenth volume of the ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society,’ are still the best account of the ruins of Anuradhapura, and beyond these a few occasional notices are nearly all the printed matter we have to depend upon. Some seven or eight years ago, a series of photographs, by the late Mr. Lawton, threw some light on the matter, and quite recently a second series by Captain Hogg, R.E., have added{186} something to our knowledge. But photographs without plans or dimensions or descriptions are most deceptive guides, and, as none of these have been supplied, they add little to our scientific knowledge of the subject. This is the more to be regretted, as quite recently some excavations have been undertaken at Anuradhapura which are calculated to throw considerable light on the structure of the great dagobas there, but regarding which no information, except what is afforded by these photographs, has reached this country.[228]

One of the most striking peculiarities of Ceylonese art, as compared with that of the continent, is the almost total absence of sculpture which it exhibits, and may be a peculiarity that may render it much less useful for comparison than might at first sight appear. The most obvious suggestion to meet this difficulty is to assume that the sculptures are buried in the accumulated ruins, in the cities where the great monuments are found, and will be discovered when excavations are made. It is to be feared, however, that this theory is hardly tenable; Ceylon has never been occupied by Mahomedans, or other hostile races, and there is no reason to suppose that at any time statues would be thrown down, or bas-reliefs destroyed; besides this, such excavations as have been made—and they are in the most likely places—have revealed nothing that would lead us to hope for better results elsewhere. Perhaps this ought not to surprise us, as nearly the same thing occurs in Burmah. In that country there is an unlimited amount of painting and carving, but no sculpture properly so called; and the same thing may have occurred in Ceylon. So far as we can now see, all the great topes were covered with chunam, which may have been painted to any extent, and all the viharas, as in Burmah, were in wood, and consequently unfitted for permanent sculpture. Besides this, such information as we have would lead us to suppose that painting was a more favoured art with the islanders than sculpture. When Fa Hian, for instance,{187} visited the island in 412-413, he describes an accompaniment to the procession of the tooth relic as follows:—“The king next causes to be placed on both sides of the road representations of the 500 bodily forms which Bôdisatwa assumed during his successive births” (the jataka in fact). “These figures,” he adds, “are all beautifully painted in divers colours, and have a very life-like appearance.”[229] It was not that they could not sculpture in stone, for, as we shall presently see, some of their carvings are of great delicacy and cleverness of execution, but they seem to have preferred colour to the more permanent forms of representation. If this is so, it certainly is remarkable, when we think of the wealth of sculpture exhibited by such monuments as Bharhut, Sanchi, or Amravati. In so far as our present information goes, one single monastery in Gandhara, such as Jamalgiri, for instance, possessed more sculpture than is to be found in the whole island of Ceylon. The form, too, of such sculptures as have been discovered, is almost as curious as its rarity. Only one ancient figure of Buddha has yet been discovered at Anuradhapura. It may be of the 3rd or 4th century, and is placed unsymmetrically in a chapel in front of the Ruanwelli dagoba. Everywhere, however, there are statues of five or seven-headed serpents, or of men with serpent-hoods, which may be of any age, and at the foot of every important flight of steps there are two dwarpals or doorkeepers with this strange appendage,[230] and attached to each flight of steps of all the larger and older dagobas are figures of the great Naga himself. In fact, in so far as the testimony of the sculptures alone is concerned, we would be forced to conclude that all the great monuments of the capital were devoted to Serpent worship instead of that of Buddha, with one exception, however; that one is dedicated to the Bo-tree, which is supposed to be the tree originally sent by Asoka from Buddh Gaya more than 2000 years ago. We know, of course, that all this is not so, but it is a testimony to the early prevalence of Tree and Serpent worship in the island, as strange as it was unexpected.

Another peculiarity of the Ceylonese monuments is their situation in the two capitals of the island, for, it will have been observed, none of the remains of Buddhist architecture described in the previous chapters are found in the great capital cities of the Empire. They are detached monuments, spared by accident in some distant corner of the land, or rock-cut examples found in remote and secluded valleys. Buddhist Palibothra has entirely perished—so has Sravasti and Vaisali; and it is with difficulty we can identify Kapilawastu, Kusinara, and other famous cities, whose magnificent monasteries and{188} stupas are described by the Chinese travellers in the fifth or seventh century of our era. In a great measure, this may be owing to their having been built of brick and wood; and, in that climate, vegetation is singularly destructive of the first, and insects and decay of the second. But much is also due to the country having been densely peopled ever since the expulsion of the Buddhists. It may also be remarked that the people inhabiting the plains of Bengal since the expulsion of the Buddhists, were either followers of the Brahmanical or Mahomedan religions—both inimical to them, or, at least, having no respect for their remains.

In Ceylon the case is different. Though the great capitals were early deserted, the people are now Buddhists, as they have been for the last 2000 years, and there, consequently, cities are still found adorned with monuments, which, though in ruins, convey a sufficient impression of what those of India must have been in the days of her glory.

Anuradhapura seems to have become the capital of Ceylon about 400 years before Christ, or about a century and a half after the death of Buddha, and the fabled introduction of his religion into the island. It was not, however, till after the lapse of another 150 years that it became a sacred city, and one of the principal capitals of Buddhism in the East, which it continued to be till about the year 769, when, owing to the repeated and destructive invasions of the Malabars, the capital was removed to Pollonarua. That city reached its period of greatest prosperity and extension, apparently in the reign of Prakrama Bahu, 1153-1186, and then sank during a long and disastrous period into decay. The seat of government was afterwards moved hither and thither, till the country fell into the hands of the Portuguese and Dutch, and finally succumbed to our power.

Anuradhapura.

The city of Anuradhapura is now totally deserted in the midst of an almost uninhabited jungle. Its public buildings must have suffered severely from the circumstances under which it perished, exposed for centuries to the attacks of foreign enemies. Besides this, the rank vegetation of Ceylon has been at work for 1000 years, stripping off all traces of plaster ornaments, and splitting the masonry in many places.

The very desolation, however, of its situation has preserved these ancient monuments from other and greater dangers. No bigoted Moslem has pulled them down to build mosques and monuments of his own faith; no indolent Hindu has allowed their materials to be used for private purposes or appropriated as private plunder; and no{189} English magistrate has yet rendered them available for mending station roads and bridges. We may be sure, therefore, that these ruins deserve the greatest attention from the student of Buddhist architecture, and that a vast fund of information may be drawn from them when sufficiently explored and described.

The peculiar fortune of Anuradhapura is that it continued the capital of Ceylon for ten centuries; and, alone of all Buddhist cities, it retains something like a complete series of the remains of its greatness during that period. We possess, moreover, in the ‘Mahawanso’ and other Ceylonese scriptures, a tolerably authentic account of the building of all these monuments, and of the purposes to which they were dedicated. Among the vestiges of its former grandeur still to be found, are the ruins of seven dome-shaped topes or dagobas, of one monastery, of a building erected to contain the sacred Bo-tree, and several other ruins and antiquities. Among these is the great mound called the tomb of the usurper Elaala, but more probably it is a tope erected by the king Duttagaimuni to commemorate the victory over that intruder which he gained on this spot about the year B.C. 161. As it is now a mere mound, without any distinguishable outline, it will not be again alluded to.

Two of the topes are of the largest size known: one, the Abhayagiri, was erected B.C. 88; its dome is exactly hemispherical, and described with a radius of 180 ft., being thus more than 1100 ft. in circumference, and with the base and spire making up a total elevation of 244 ft., which is only 16 ft. less than the traditional height of 120 cubits assigned to it in the ‘Mahawanso.’[231] It was erected by a king Walagambahu, to commemorate his reconquest of his kingdom from a foreign usurper who had deposed him and occupied his throne for about sixteen years.

The second tope is the Jetawana, erected by a king Mahasena A.D. 275. In form and dimensions it is almost identical with the last described, though somewhat more perfect in outline, and a few feet higher, owing probably to its being more modern than its rival. These two were commemorative monuments, and not relic shrines.

Next to these, but far more important from its sacredness, is the Ruanwelli dagoba, erected by king Duttagaimuni, between the years 161 and 137 B.C., over a very imposing collection of relics, of which a full account is given in the 31st chapter of the ‘Mahawanso.’ Its dimensions are very similar to those of the two last described, but it has been so much defaced, partly by violence, and partly, it seems, from a failure of the foundations, that it is not easy to ascertain either its original shape or size. The same king erected another smaller tope, 260 ft. in diameter. It is now known as the Mirisiwellya. Like{190} the last described it is very much ruined, and not particularly interesting either from its form or history.

98. Elevation of front of Staircase, Ruanwelli Dagoba. No scale.

Some excavations that have recently been undertaken have disclosed the fact that the Ruanwelli dagoba had at its base three offsets, or procession paths, rising like steps, one behind and above the other, but with no ornament now apparent, except a plain Buddhist rail of two bars on the outer edge of the two lower ones, and of an elephant cornice to the upper. It can hardly, however, be doubted that the inner faces were originally plastered, and painted with historical scenes. On each of the four fronts of this dagoba was an ornamental projection containing and partially concealing the flights of steps by which access was had to these galleries.[232] From the photographs, it is not clear where the steps were that lead to the first, but those leading from the first to the second and third were arranged like those at Sanchi (Woodcut No. 11) behind this frontispiece. Without a plan, however, it is difficult to make out exactly what the arrangement may have been.

A precisely similar arrangement of stairs exists on the four faces of the Abhayagiri and Jetawana dagobas, to that shown in the two Woodcuts Nos. 98, 99, and consists first of a plain base, above which is a frieze of elephants’ heads with pateræ between them, very like those used in the metopes of the Roman Doric order; above this are three plain faces divided by ornamental string courses. Then a bracket cornice with pateræ again, and above this two or three more cornices. Above this there was probably a parapet simulating a Buddhist rail.

At each end of this projecting arrangement were two stelæ—at the Ruanwelli the inner covered by a foliaged pattern, the outer by{191} a seven-headed Naga, as will be observed in the Woodcut No. 99; at the Abhayagiri, the inner stele is adorned with a pattern so nearly identical with that on the pillars of the western gateway at Sanchi,[233] that we have no difficulty in recognising them as belonging to about the same age; though this one, of course, is the older of the two (B.C. 104). On the other stele in this tope (Woodcut No. 100), we recognise the shield, the Swastica, the trisul, the conch (of Vishnu?) and all the other Buddhist emblems with which we are already familiar. The Naga here has a stele of his own and detached from the other two.

99. View of Frontispiece of Stairs, Ruanwelli Dagoba. (From a Photograph.)

All this is architecturally so unlike anything we find of the same age on the continent of India, while its sculptured details are so nearly identical, that, when we come to know more about it, these differences and similarities may lead to most important inferences; but we must at present wait for the requisite information to enable us to see the bearing of these peculiarities.

Besides these four large buildings there are two smaller ones, known as the Thuparamaya and Lankaramaya, very similar to one{192}

100. Stelæ at the end of Stairs, Abhayagiri Dagoba. (From a Photograph.)

101. Thuparamaya Tope. (From an unpublished Lithograph by the late James Prinsep.)

another in size and arrangement. The first-named is represented in Woodcut No. 101. The tope itself, though small and somewhat{193} ruined, is of a singularly elegant bell-shaped outline.[234] Its diameter and height are nearly the same, between 50 ft. and 60 ft., and it stands on a platform raised about 9 ft. from the ground, on which are arranged three rows of pillars, which form by far the most important architectural ornament of the building. The inner circle stands about 2 ft. from the dagoba, and the other two about 10 ft. from each other. The pillars themselves are monoliths 26 ft. in height, of which the lower part, to the height of 9 ft., is left square, each side being about 1 ft. The next division, 14 ft. 6 in. in length, has the angles cut off, as is usual in this style, so as to form an octagon; the two parts being of one piece of granite. These sustain a capital of the same material, 2 ft. 6 in. in height.

Accounts differ as to the number of the pillars, as Mr. Knighton says they were originally 108;[235] whereas Captain Chapman counted 149, and states the original number to have been 184.[236]

This relic-shrine was erected by the celebrated king Devenampiatissa, about 250 years B.C., to contain the right jawbone of Buddha, which—say the Buddhist chroniclers—descending from the skies, placed itself on the crown of the monarch. As contemporary with Asoka it belongs to the most interesting period of Buddhist history, and is older, or, at least, as old, as anything now existing on the continent of India; and there is every reason to suppose it now exists, as nearly as may be, in the form in which it was originally designed, having escaped alteration,[237] and, what is more unusual in a Buddhist relic-shrine, having escaped augmentation. When the celebrated tooth relic was brought hither from India at the beginning of the 4th century, it was deposited in a small building erected for the purpose on one of the angles of the platform of this building, instead of being placed, as seems generally to have been the case, in a shrine on its summit, and eventually made the centre of a new and more extended erection. Perhaps it was an unwillingness to disturb the sacred circle of pillars that prevented this being done, or it may have been that the tooth relic, for some reason we do not now understand, was destined never to be permanently hid from the sight of its adorers. It is certain that it has been accessible during the last 2000 years, and is the only relic of its class that seems to have been similarly preserved and exhibited.

The Lankaramaya (Woodcut No. 102) is extremely similar to the last—though considerably more modern, having been erected A.D. 221{194}—and looks of even more recent date than it really is, in consequence of a thorough repair some time ago, which has nearly obliterated its more ancient features.

102. Lankaramaya Dagoba, A.D. 221. (From a Photograph.)

As will be observed the two last-mentioned dagobas present us with a peculiarity not found on any example we have yet met with, inasmuch as they are surrounded by three circles of slender monolithic columns, of very elegant design. It can hardly be doubted that these represent, and take the place of, the rail of the northern topes, and subserve the same purpose, but in what manner is not at first sight very apparent. Referring, however, to what was said above, about the Ceylonese preferring painting to sculpture, it does not seem difficult to explain the anomaly. These pillars were originally, I fancy, connected with one another by beams of wood on their capitals, and from these, frames or curtains may have been suspended covered with the paintings which are so indispensable a part of Buddhist decoration. But it may be objected why three? or, as I believe, the Lankaramaya had originally, four such ranges of pillars? It is true the northern dagobas had generally only one rail, but that at Amravati had two, and as the great dagobas here had three procession-paths, while none of the northern ones had more than one, we should not be surprised if the smaller dagobas had three paths also, though differently arranged, and even then hardly capable of displaying the same amount of painting. When we come to describe the great temple of Boro Buddor in Java it will be seen that it had five{195} procession-paths, and that their walls were sculptured, both inside and outside, with an amount of stone decoration which none of these Ceylonese topes could display, even in painting, by any arrangement we can now understand.

There is still another—the Saila dagoba—within the limits of the city, but so ruined that its architectural features are undistinguishable, though tradition would lead us to suppose it was the oldest in the place, belonging to a period even anterior to Sakya Muni. The spot at all events is said to have been hallowed by the presence of Kasyapa, the preceding Buddha.

Besides these, there are on the hill of Mehentele, a few miles to the north-east of the city, two important relic-shrines: one of the first class, erected on its summit to cover a hair that grew on the forehead of Buddha over his left eyebrow. The other, on a shoulder of the hill immediately below this, is of the same class as the Thuparamaya; a small central building surrounded by concentric rows of granite pillars, which, as appears to have been usual when this mode of decoration was employed, rose to half the height of the central mound.

There are, in addition to these, a great number of topes of various sorts scattered over the plain, but whether any of them are particularly interesting, either from their architecture or their history, has not been ascertained, nor will it be till the place is far more carefully surveyed than it has yet been.

There is another ruin at Anuradhapura, which, if a little more perfect, would be even more interesting than those topes. It goes by the name of the Lowa Maha Paya, or Great Brazen Monastery. We have a full account in the ‘Mahawanso’ of its erection by the pious king Duttagaimuni (B.C. 161),[238] according to a plan procured from heaven for the purpose—as well as a history of its subsequent destruction and rebuildings.

When first erected it is said to have been 100 cubits or 225 ft. square, and as high as it was broad; the height was divided into nine storeys, each containing 100 cells for priests, besides halls and other indispensable apartments. Nearly 200 years after its erection (A.D. 30) it required considerable repairs, but the first great disaster occurred in the reign of Mahasena, A.D. 285, who is said to have destroyed it utterly.[239] It was re-erected by his son, but with only five storeys instead of nine; and it never after this regained its pristine magnificence, but gradually fell into decay even before the seat of government was removed to Pollonarua. Since that time it has been completely deserted, and all that now remains are the 1600 pillars which once supported it. These generally consist of unhewn blocks of granite about 12 ft. high; some of the central ones are sculptured, and{196} many have been split into two, apparently at the time of the great rebuilding after its destruction by Mahasena; as it is, they stand about 6 ft. apart from centre to centre in a compact phalanx, forty on each face, and covering a space of 250 ft. or 260 ft. each way. Upon the pillars must have been placed a strong wooden framing from which the remaining eight storeys rose, as in the modern Burmese monasteries, in a manner to be explained in a subsequent chapter.

There is only one difficulty, so far as I can see, in understanding the arrangement of the superstructure of this building, and that is the assertion of the ‘Mahawanso’ that it consisted of nine storeys—afterwards of five—each containing 100 apartments. For myself I have no hesitation in rejecting this statement as impossible, not only from the difficulty of constructing and roofing such a building, but because its form is so utterly opposed to all the traditions of Eastern art. If we turn back to Fa Hian or Hiouen Thsang’s description of the great Dekhani monastery (page 135) or to the great rath at Mahavellipore (Woodcut No. 66), or, indeed, to any of the 1001 temples of southern India, all of which simulate three, five, or nine-storeyed residences, we get a distinct idea of what such a building may have been if erected in the Indian style. It would, too, be convenient and appropriate to the climate, each storey having its terrace for walking or sleeping in the open air, and the whole easily constructed and kept in order. All this will be clearer in the sequel, but in the meanwhile it hardly appears doubtful that the Lowa Maha Paya was originally of nine, and subsequently of five storeys, each less in dimension than the one below it. The top one was surmounted as at Mahavellipore by a dome, but in this instance composed of brass—whence its name; and, gilt and ornamented as it no doubt was, it must have been one of the most splendid buildings of the East. It was as high as the topes, and, though not covering quite so much ground, was equal, in cubical contents, to the largest of our English cathedrals, and the body of the building was higher than any of them, omitting of course the spires, which are mere ornaments.

Besides these there are scattered about the ruins of Anuradhapura some half dozen, it may be a dozen, groups of pillars, whose use and purpose it would be extremely interesting to know something about. They all seem raised on a platform or stylobate, and approached by one or more flights of steps, of a highly ornamental character. One of these, leading to a group of pillars attached to the Ruanwelli dagoba, will convey some idea of their general character (Woodcut No. 103). At the foot of the flight of steps is a semicircular stone, popularly known in Ceylon as a moon stone (Woodcut No. 104). At least a dozen of these are known to exist at Anuradhapura and as many probably at Pollonarua. Some are large and some smaller than others, but they{197}

103. Pavilion with Steps at Anuradhapura. (From a Photograph.)

104. Moon Stone at Foot of Steps leading to the Platform of the Bo-tree, Anuradhapura. (From a Photograph.)

are all nearly identical in design and quite peculiar to Ceylon—nothing of the sort having yet been found on the continent of India or elsewhere. Inside an outer ornamental ring is a procession of animals, divided from the next compartment by a richly elaborated scroll; within that again a row of birds bearing lotus buds, and then a lotus flower with a disc ornamented with circles. The animals are always elephants, lions, horses, and bulls, the birds either hansas, or sacred geese, or it may be pigeons. These, it will be recollected, are the{198} animals which Fa Hian and Hiouen Thsang describe as ornamenting the five storeys of the great Dekhani monastery, and which, as we shall afterwards see, were also arranged at Hullabîd in the 13th century in precisely the same manner. For 1500 years they, and they only, seem to have been selected for architectural purposes, but why this was so we are yet unable to explain.[240]

The risers of these stairs, though not adorned with storeyed bas-reliefs, like those of the Jamalgiri monastery in Gandhara, are all richly ornamented, being divided generally into two panels by figures of dwarfs and framed by foliaged borders, while the jambs or flanking stones are also adorned by either figures of animals or bas-reliefs.

If we had plans or any architectural details of the pavilions to which these steps led, it probably would be easy to say to what purpose they were dedicated and how they were roofed. The photographs do not enable us to do either, but from them we gather that some of these halls were certainly enclosed by walls, as the outer side of the pillars is left rough and unsculptured, while those in the centre are sculptured all round. Meanwhile my impression is that they are the buildings Fa Hian describes as preaching halls—the chaitya or ceremonial halls attached to the great dagobas. In India the form these take is that of halls with simulated dagobas inside them, towards which the worship was addressed, but when a real dagoba existed 200 ft. to 400 ft. in diameter, what was wanted was a hall in which the priests could assemble to chant their liturgies, and from which to address their prayers to the great object of their reverence. If this were so, the axis of these halls ought to be turned towards the dagobas, but whether this was so or not is not yet ascertained.[241]

Besides these there is at Anuradhapura a temple called Isurumuniya, partly cut in the rock, partly structural, regarding which some information would be extremely interesting. Till within the last few years the pillars of its porch still carried the wooden beams of a roof, but whether it was the original one or a subsequent addition is by no means clear. From the mortises in the face of the rock I would be inclined to believe that it was at least in the original form, but the building has been so knocked about and altered in modern times, that it is impossible to speak with certainty regarding it. So far as can be{199} judged from such photographs as have come home, I would be inclined to ascribe the original excavation to the 6th or 7th century. The architecture of the steps and the Naga dwarpals are all of the old pattern, but coarser and showing unmistakable signs of decadence.

To us these are the most interesting of the remains of the ancient city, but to a Buddhist the greatest and most sacred of the vestiges of the past is the celebrated Bo-tree. This is now reverenced and worshipped even amidst the desolation in which it stands, and has been worshipped on this spot for more than 2000 years; and thus, if not the oldest, is certainly among the most ancient of the idols that still command the adoration of mankind.

When Asoka sent his son Mahindo, and his daughter Sangamitta, to introduce Buddhism into Ceylon, one of the most precious things which they brought was a branch of the celebrated tree which still grows at Gaya[242] (Woodcut No. 16). The branch, so says the legend, spontaneously severed itself from the parent stem, and planted itself in a golden vase prepared for its reception. According to the prophecy, it was to be “always green, never growing nor decaying,” and certainly present appearances would go far to confirm such an assertion, for, notwithstanding its age, it is small, and, though healthy, does not seem to increase. Its being evergreen is only a characteristic of its species, the Ficus religiosa; our acquaintance with it, however, must extend over a longer series of years than it yet does, before we can speak with certainty as to its stationary qualities.

It grows from the top of a small pyramid, which rises in three terraces, each about 12 ft. in height, in the centre of a large square enclosure called the Maha Vihara. But though the place is large, sacred, and adorned with gates of some pretension, none of the architectural features which at present surround it are such as to require notice in a work like the present.

Pollonarua.[243]

Although very much more modern in date, and consequently less pure in style, the ruins at Pollonarua are scarcely less interesting than those of the northern capital to which it succeeded. They form a link between the ancient and modern styles at a time when the Buddhists had ceased to exist, or at least to build, on the continent of India, and,{200} when properly illustrated, will enable us to speak with confidence of much that we find beyond the Ganges. Almost all we know at present of these ruins is due to the publications of Sir Emerson Tennent,[244] which, though most valuable contributions, are far from exhausting the subject. According to this authority, the principal ruins extend in a line nearly north and south for about a mile and a half from the palace to the Gal Vihara, and comprise two dagobas, besides a number of smaller edifices. The greater part seem to have been erected during the reign of Prakrama Bahu, 1153-86, though, as the city became the capital of the kingdom in the 8th century, it is probable that an intelligent search would reveal some of earlier date; while, as it was not deserted till 1235, some of them may also be more modern.

If not the oldest, certainly the most interesting group at Pollonarua is that of the rock-cut sculptures known as the Gal Vihara. They are not rock-cut temples in the sense in which the term is understood in India, being neither residences nor chaitya halls. On the left, on the face of the rock, is a figure of Buddha, seated in the usual cross-legged conventional attitude, 16 ft. in height, and backed by a throne of exceeding richness: perhaps the most elaborate specimen of its class known to exist anywhere. Next to this is a cell, with two pillars in front, on the back wall of which is another seated figure of Buddha, but certainly of a more modern aspect than that last described; that appearance may, however, be owing to whitewash and paint, which have been most liberally applied to it. Beyond this is a figure of Buddha, standing in the open air; and still further to the right another of him, lying down in the conventional attitude of his attaining Nirvana. This figure is 45 ft. long, while the standing one is only 25 ft. high.[245] These Nirvana figures are rare in India, but there is one in the most modern cave at Ajunta, No. 26, and others in the latest caves at Nassick and Salsette. None of these, however, so far as I know, ever attained in India such dimensions as these. In another century or two they might have done so, but the attainment of such colossal proportions is a sure sign of their being very modern.

In front of the Gal Vihara stands the principal religious group of{201}

105. The Jayta Wana Rama—Ruins of Pollonarua. (From Tennent’s ‘Christianity in Ceylon.’)

the city, consisting first of the Jayta Wana Rama Temple, 170 ft. long by 70 ft. wide (Woodcut No. 105), containing an erect statue of Buddha 58 ft. in height. On one side of it is the Kiri dagoba—on the right of the woodcut—with two smaller topes, standing on raised platforms, the whole space measuring 577 ft. by 500 ft., and was apparently at one time entirely filled with objects of religious{202} adoration. The whole certainly belongs to the age of Prakrama-Bahu. It was, however, built of brick, and plastered, which gives it an appearance of inferiority even beyond what is due to the inferior style of that age.

Next in importance to this is the Rankot Dagoba, 180 ft. in diameter. This, though only half that of some of those in the older capital, is still larger than any known to exist on the continent of India. Its base is surrounded, like those in Burmah, by a number of small shrines, which at this age supplied the place of the pillars or of the rails which formed so important a part of the structure of the older examples.

106. Sat Mehal Prasada. (From Sir J. E. Tennent’s ‘Ceylon.’)

At some distance from this, and near the palace, stands the Sat Mehal Prasada (Woodcut No. 106), which is one of the most interesting buildings of the place, as it is one of the most perfect representations existing of the seven-storeyed temples of Assyria already described, vol. i. page 152, et seqq. That this is a lineal descendant of the Birs Nimroud can hardly be doubted. It is also interesting as affording a hint as to the appearance of the five or nine-storeyed monasteries mentioned in a previous page (196). This one, however, never was a residence, nor does it simulate one, like the raths at Mahavellipore or other buildings in the Dravidian style, which will be described in a subsequent chapter.

In front of it lies a splendid dolmen, or stone table, 26 ft. long, 4 ft. broad, and 2 ft. thick. It would be interesting to know if the dolmen rests on the ground, or is supported on three or more upright stones—most probably the latter. Like most of the Indian examples, it appears to be a squared and carved repetition of what{203} in Europe we find only rough and unhewn. The carving on its border represents a number of hansas or sacred geese—always a favourite subject of the Buddhist sculptors.[246] At one end of this stone is engraved a representation of Sri, with her two elephants with their water-pots (Woodcut No. 2); and I fancy I can detect her also in other photographs elsewhere in Ceylon, but not so distinctly as to feel sure.

107. Round House, called Watté Dajê, in Pollonarua. (From Sir J. E. Tennent.)

Close to the Sat Mehal is a circular building, which, so far as is at present known, is unique. It may almost be described as a hollow dagoba, being a circular enclosure surrounded by a wall, but empty in the centre, at least containing nothing now. Originally, it may have had a shrine in its centre, or tabernacle of some sort, containing a relic or, more probably, a sacred Tree. It is surrounded by a procession-path, enclosed by a highly-ornamental screen, and beyond this by a second gallery adorned with a range of slender pillars, like those which surround the dagobas at Anuradhapura (Woodcut No. 107); below this, again, is a richly-carved stylobate.

Four flights of steps lead up to its procession-paths, more magnificent and elaborate than any others that have yet been discovered in Ceylon. They all have most elaborate moon stones to start from. Their risers are each adorned with twelve figures of dwarfs, and their side-pieces, or jambs, are also of exceptional richness, and each has{204} a pair of Naga-headed dwarpals on each side of its upper flight. The photographs are sufficient to show that this is one of the most interesting buildings in Ceylon, as well as one of the richest in sculptural decorations; but unless the antiquities of Java throw some light on the subject, we must be content with ignorant admiration till some one capable of investigating its history visits the place.[247]

Besides these, there are in Pollonarua several of those groups of pillars, without roofs or walls, which we tried to describe in speaking of Anuradhapura. One, called the Audience Hall, seems to be very similar to those of the northern capital; another, known as the Hetti Vihara, is more extensive, and may really be the foundation of a vihara; but till we have plans and more details it is needless speculating on what they may or may not have been.

Although built in brick, and very much ruined, there still exist in Pollonarua a palace and a vihara—the Abhayagiri—which was really a residence, and whose examination would, no doubt, throw considerable light on the arrangement of similar buildings in India. That information might, however, be difficult to obtain, and, till the simpler and more monumental buildings are examined and drawn, its investigation may well be postponed.

Besides these, Pollonarua possesses another point of interest of considerable importance, though hardly germane to our present subject. Among its ruins are several buildings in the Dravidian style of architecture, whose dates could easily, I fancy, be at least approximately ascertained. One of these is called the Dalada Maligawa, apparently from its possessing at one time the tooth relic; for it is hardly probable that when migrating southward for fear of the Tamils they would have left their cherished palladium behind them. If it was sheltered here, and this was the first building erected to receive it, it would be a most important landmark in the very vague chronology of that style. Another, though called the Vishnu Deyanne Dewala, was certainly either originally, or is now, dedicated to the worship of Siva, as is testified by the presence of the bull alongside of it, and also apparently on its roof. But be this as it may, it is the lowest and flattest of those buildings I have yet met with, and more like a direct literal copy from a constructive vihara than even the raths at Mahavellipore (Woodcut No. 181). This may arise either from its being a copy of an actual vihara existing at the time it was built, or to its being very old. Those at Mahavellipore,{205} even if older than this one, may have gone through certain stages towards their present conventional forms before they were cut in the rock. But more of this hereafter.

It is unfortunate for the history of architecture in Ceylon that the oldest and finest of her rock-cut temples—as those, for instance, at Dambul and Dunumadala Kanda—are only natural caverns, slightly improved by art; and those mentioned above, as the Isurumuniya at Anuradhapura, and Gal Vihara at Pollonarua, besides being comparatively modern, have very little architecture about them, and that little by no means of a good class. Generally speaking, what architecture these Ceylonese caves do possess is developed on applied façades of masonry, never of the same age as the caves themselves, and generally more remarkable for grotesqueness than beauty. Besides, the form of these caves being accidental, they want that interest which attaches so strongly to those of India, as illustrating the religious forms and ceremonies of the early Buddhists. Indeed, their only point of interest seems to consist in their being still used for the celebration of the same rites to which they were originally dedicated 2000 years ago.

Conclusion.

Although the above sketch cannot pretend to be anything like a complete and exhaustive treatise on the subject, it may probably be accepted, as far as it goes, as a fairly correct and intelligible description of Buddhist architecture in India. We certainly know the beginning of the style, and as certainly its end. The succession of the buildings hardly admits of doubt, and their dates are generally ascertained within very narrow limits of error. A great deal more must, of course, be done before all the examples are known and all the lacunæ filled up; but this is being rapidly done, and in a few years from this time all that is necessary to complete the history may be available for the purpose. It is hardly probable, however, that anything will be now discovered in India which will materially alter the views put forward in the preceding pages. Another discovery like General Cunningham’s at Bharhut may reward the industry of explorers; but even that, though it has given breadth and precision to our inquiries, and added so much to our stores of knowledge, has altered little that was known before. What was written in my work on ‘Tree and Serpent Worship’ before the discovery was made, has, in almost every instance, been confirmed, and in no important particular modified or changed; and our knowledge is now so extended, it probably will be the same in other cases. It is difficult, however, to form an opinion on the chances of any such discoveries being now{206} made. The one important building we miss of which accounts have reached us, is the rock-cut monastery described by the Chinese Pilgrims (ante, p. 135). If it was rock-cut, it almost certainly exists, and may yet be found in some of the unexplored parts of the Nizam’s territory. If it is discovered, it will throw more light on Buddhist architecture in the first century of our era than anything yet brought to light. That it did exist seems hardly doubtful, inasmuch as we have in the great rath at Mahavellipore (Woodcut No. 66) a literal copy of it—on a small scale, it is true—but so perfect that it certainly is not a first attempt to repeat, in a monolithic form, a class of building that must have been very common at the time this was attempted.

Be this as it may, even such a sketch as that contained in the preceding pages is sufficient to prove that it is almost impossible to overrate the importance of architecture and its associated arts in elucidating and giving precision to our knowledge of Buddhist history and mythology, from the time when it became the religion of the state till it perished in so far as India was concerned. In the rails at Buddh Gaya and Bharhut, with the eastern caves, we have a complete picture of Buddhism as it existed during the great Mauryan dynasty (B.C. 325 to B.C. 188). At Sanchi and the western caves we have as complete a representation of the form it took from the first century before our era to the third or fourth after it. At Amravati, and from the Gandhara monasteries, we learn what modifications had been introduced before and during the 4th century; and from the Ajunta and later caves we trace its history downward through its period of decay till it became first almost Jaina and then faded away altogether.

During the first half of this thousand years we have no contemporary records except those written in stone, and during the latter we have no books we can depend upon; but the architecture, with its sculptures and paintings, remain, and bear the indelible impress of the thoughts, the feelings, and the aspirations of those who executed them, and supply us with a vast amount of exact knowledge on the subject which is not attainable by any other means now known to us.{207}

## BOOK II.
JAINA ARCHITECTURE.

## CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.

There are few of the problems connected with this branch of our subject so obscure and so puzzling as those connected with the early history of the Architecture of the Jains. When we first practically meet with it in the early part of the 11th century at Abu, or at Girnar, it is a style complete and perfect in all its parts, evidently the result of long experience and continuous artistic development. From that point it progresses during one or two centuries towards greater richness, but in doing so loses the purity and perfection it had attained at the earlier period, and from that culminating point its downward progress can be traced through abundant examples to the present day. When, however, we try to trace its upward progress the case is widely different. General Cunningham has recently found some Jaina statues at Muttra, with dates upon them apparently of 99 and 177 A.D.[248] If this is so, it is the earliest material trace of Jainism that has yet been discovered, and they must have been associated with buildings which may yet reward the explorer. From this time forward, till the 11th century, we have only fragments of temples of uncertain origin and date, and all in so very ruined a condition that they hardly assist us in our researches. Yet we cannot doubt that the Jains did exist in India, and did build temples, during the whole of this interval, and the discovery of some of them may yet reward the industry of some future investigator.

Meanwhile one thing seems tolerably clear, that the religions of the Buddhists and that of the Jains were so similar to one another{208} both in their origin, and their development and doctrines, that their architecture must also at one time have been nearly the same. In consequence of this, if we could trace back Jaina art from about the year 1000, when practically we first meet it, to the year 600 or 700, when we lose sight of Buddhist art, we should probably find the two very much alike. Or if, on the other hand, we could trace Buddhist art from A.D. 600 to A.D. 1000, we should as probably find it developing itself into something very like the temples on Mount Abu, and elsewhere, at that period of time.

A strong presumption that the architecture of the two sects was similar arises from the fact of their sculptures being so nearly identical that it is not always easy to distinguish what belongs to the one and what to the other; and in all instances it requires some experience to do this readily. The Tirthankars are generally represented seated in the same cross-legged attitude as Buddha, with the same curly hair, and the same stolid contemplative expression of countenance. Where, however, the emblems that accompany the Jaina saints can be recognised, this difficulty does not exist. Another, but less certain test arises from the fact that the Jaina saints are generally represented as naked—Digambaras or Sky-clad, which in ancient times seems to have been the most numerous sect, though another division or the Swetambaras, or White-robed, were clothed much like the Buddhist. When, therefore, a figure of the class is represented as naked it may certainly be assumed to belong to the sect of the Jains, but the converse is by no means so certain. If clad it may belong to either, and in consequence it is frequently difficult to distinguish between late Buddhist and early Jaina bas-reliefs and sculptures.

So far as we can at present see, the most hopeful source of information regarding Jaina architecture seems to be the ruined monasteries of the Gandhara country (Woodcuts Nos. 92, 93, 96). The square or polygonal court of these viharas surrounded by cells containing images is what is found in all Jaina temples. The square or circular altar, or place of worship, may easily be considered as the prototype of the Sikra surrounded by cells of the Jains; and altogether these viharas, though probably as early as the fourth or fifth century of our era, are more like the temples at Abu and Girnar than anything intermediate. It is indeed every day becoming more and more apparent that, in consequence of our knowledge of Buddhist architecture being derived almost exclusively from rock-cut examples, we miss a great deal which, if derived from structural buildings, would probably solve this among other problems that are now perplexing us.

The same remarks apply equally to the Jaina caves. Those at Ellora and Badami do not help us in our investigation, because they are not copies of structural buildings, but are imitations of the rock-cut examples of the Hindus, which had grown up into a style of{209} their own, distinct from that of structural edifices. These, being interposed between the Buddhist and Jaina styles, separate the two as completely as if no examples existed, and prevent our tracing any connexion that may have existed between the two forms of art.

The earliest hint we get of a twelve-pillared dome, such as those universally used by the Jains, is in a sepulchre at Mylassa,[249] probably belonging to the 4th century. A second hint is found in the great cave at Bagh (Woodcut No. 87) in the 6th or 7th century, and there is little doubt that others will be found when looked for—but where? In the valley of the Ganges, and wherever the Mahomedans settled in force, it would be in vain to look for them. These zealots found the slender and elegant pillars, and the richly carved horizontal domes of the Jains, so appropriate and so easily re-arranged for their purposes, that they utilised all they cared not to destroy. The great mosques of Ajmir, Delhi, Canouge, Dhar and Ahmedabad, are all merely reconstructed temples of the Jains. There is, however, nothing in any of them that seems to belong to a very remote period—nothing in fact that can be carried back to times long, if at all, anterior to the year 1000. So we must look further for the cause of their loss.

As mentioned in the introduction the curtain drops on the drama of Indian history about the year 650, or a little later, and for three centuries we have only the faintest glimmerings of what took place within her boundaries. Civil wars seem to have raged everywhere, and religious persecution of the most relentless kind. When the curtain again rises we have an entirely new scene and new dramatis personæ presented to us. Buddhism had entirely disappeared, except in one corner of Bengal, and Jainism had taken its place throughout the west, and Vishnuism had usurped its inheritance in the east. On the south the religion of Siva had been adopted by the mass of the people, and these three religions had all assumed new and complex forms from the adoption of local superstitions, and differed widely from the simpler forms of the earlier faiths. My impression is that it was during these three centuries of misrule that the later temples and viharas of the Buddhists disappeared, and the earlier temples of the Jains; and there is a gap consequently in our history which may be filled up by new discoveries in remote places,[250] but which at present separates this chapter from the last in a manner it is by no means pleasant to contemplate.{210}

## CHAPTER II.
CONSTRUCTION.

CONTENTS.

Arches—Domes—Plans—Sikras.

Arches.

Before proceeding to describe the arrangements of Jaina or Hindu temples, it may add to the clearness of what follows if we first explain the peculiar modes of constructing arches and domes which they invariably employed.

As remarked above, although we cannot assert with absolute certainty that the Buddhists never employed a true arch, this at least is certain—that no structural example has yet been found in India, and that all the arched or circular forms found in the caves are without one single exception copies of wooden forms, and nowhere even simulate stone construction. With the Hindus and Jains the case is different: they use stone arches and stone domes which are not copied from wooden forms at all; but these are invariably horizontal arches, never formed or intended to be formed with radiating voussoirs.

It has already been explained, in speaking of Pelasgic art,[251] how prevalent these forms were in ancient Greece and Asia Minor, and how long they continued to be employed even after the principles of the true arch were perfectly understood. In India, however, the adherence to this form of construction is even more remarkable. As the Hindus quaintly express it, “an arch never sleeps;” and it is true that a radiating arch does contain in itself a vis viva which is always tending to thrust its haunches outwards, and goes far to ensure the ultimate destruction of every building where it is employed: while the horizontal forms employed by the Hindus are in stable equilibrium, and, unless disturbed by violence, might remain so for ever.

There can be no doubt that the Hindus carried their horror of an arch to an excess which frequently led them to worse faults on the other side. In city walls for instance, where there is a superabundant{211} abutment on either hand to counteract any thrust, the horizontal principle is entirely misplaced. If we take, for instance, one of the city gates at Bijanagur (Woodcut No. 108), we cannot help perceiving that with much smaller stones and less trouble a far more stable construction could have been obtained, so long as the wall on either hand remained entire. What the Hindu feared was that if the wall were shattered, as we now find it, the arch would have fallen, though the horizontal layers still remain in their places.

108. View of City Gateway, Bijanagur. (From a Photograph.)

109. Gateway, Jinjûwarra. (From Kinloch Forbes’ ‘Ras Mala.’)

Instead of a continuous bracket like that shown in the last example, a more usual form, in modern times at least, is that of{212} several detached brackets placed a little distance apart the one from the other. When used in moderation this is the more pleasing form of the two, and in southern India it is generally used with great success. In the north they are liable to exaggerate it, as in the gateway from Jinjûwarra in Gujerat (Woodcut No. 109, p. 211), when it becomes unpleasing, though singularly characteristic of the style.

It is this horizontal or bracket mode of construction that is the formative principle of the Dravidian or Southern style of Hindu architecture, every form and every ornament depending almost wholly upon it. In the north, however, another development of the same principle is found in the horizontal dome, which is unknown in the south, but which has given a new character to the style, and, as one of its most beautiful features, demands a somewhat detailed explanation.

Domes.

It is to be regretted that, while so much has been written on the history of the pointed arch, so little should have been said regarding the history of domes: the one being a mere constructive peculiarity that might very well have been dispensed with; the other being the noblest feature in the styles in which it prevails, and perhaps the most important acquisition with which science has enriched the art of architecture.

The so-called Treasuries of Mycenæ and Orchomenos, as well as the chambers in Etruscan tombs, prove that as early as ten or twelve centuries before Christ the Pelasgic races had learned the art of roofing circular chambers with stone vaults, not constructed, as we construct them, with radiating vaults, on the principle of the common arch, but by successive layers of stones converging to a point, and closed by one large stone at the apex.

Whoever invented the true or radiating arch, the Romans were the first who applied it as a regular and essential architectural feature, and who at the same time introduced its complement, the radiating dome, into architectural construction; at what period it is not now known. The earliest example, the Pantheon, is also the finest and largest; but we have lost entirely the innumerable steps by which the architects must have slowly progressed to so daring an experiment.

There is, however, a vast difference between these two classes of domes, which it is necessary to bear in mind in order to understand what follows.

The Roman arch and Roman dome are always constructed (Woodcut No. 110) on the principle of voussoirs, or truncated wedges, radiating from a centre. This enabled the Romans to cover much larger spaces{213} with their domes than perhaps was possible on the horizontal principle; but it involved the inconvenience of great lateral thrusts, continually tending to split the dome and tear the building in pieces, and requiring immense and massive abutments to counteract their destructive energy.

110. Radiating Arch. |  | 111. Horizontal Arch.

The Indian or horizontal dome never can be made circular in section, except when used on the smallest scale, but almost always takes a form more or less pointed (Woodcut No. 111). From the time of the building of the Treasury of Mycenæ[252] to the birth of Christ we have a tolerably complete series of arches and vaults constructed on this principle, but few domes properly so called. After the Christian Era the first example is found in a singular tomb at Mylassa,[253] near Halicarnassus,[254] where the dome exhibits all the peculiarities of construction found in the Jaina temples of India. After this we lose the thread of its history till the form reappears in porches like those of the 11th century on Mount Abu, where it is a perfectly established architectural feature, that must have been practised long before it could be used as we find it in that building. Whether we shall ever be able to recover the lost links in this chain is more than doubtful, but it would be deeply interesting to the history of art if it could be done. In the meantime, there is no difficulty in explaining the constructive steps by which the object is now attained in India. These may also throw some light on the history of the invention, though this is not, of course, capable of direct proof.

112. Diagram of Roofing.

The simplest mode of roofing a small square space supported by four pillars is merely to run an architrave or stone beam from each pillar, and cover the intermediate opening by a plain stone slab. Unless, however, slabs of great dimensions are available, this mode of construction has a limit very soon arrived at. The next step therefore is to reduce the extent of the central space to be covered by cutting off its corners; this is done by triangular stones placed in each angle of the square, as in Woodcut No. 112, thus employing five stones{214} instead of one. By this means, the size of the central stone remaining the same, the side of the square space so roofed is increased in the ratio of ten to seven, the actual area being doubled. The next step in the process (Woodcut No. 113) is by employing three tiers and nine stones instead of two tiers and five stones, which quadruples the area roofed. Thus, if the central stone is 4 ft., by the second process the space roofed will be about 5 ft. 8 in.; by the third 8 ft. square; by a fourth process (Woodcut No. 114)—with four tiers and thirteen stones—the extent roofed may be 9 ft. or 10 ft., always assuming the central stone to remain 4 ft. square. All these forms are still currently used in India, but with four pillars the process is seldom carried further than this; with another tier, however, and eight pillars (as shown in Woodcut No. 115), it may be carried a step further—exactly the extent to which it is carried in the tomb at Mylassa above referred to. In this, however, as in all instances of octagonal domes in this style, instead of the octagonal form being left as such, there are always four external pillars at the angles, so that the square shape is retained, with twelve pillars, of which the eight internal pillars may be taken as mere insertions to support the long architrave between the four angular pillars.

113. | Diagrams of Roofing. | 114.

115. Diagram of Roofing.

It is evident that here again we come to a limit beyond which we cannot progress without using large and long stones. This was sometimes met by cutting off the angles of the octagon, and making the lower course of sixteen sides. When this has been done an awkwardness arises in getting back to the square form. This was escaped{215} from, in all the instances I am acquainted with, by adopting circular courses for all above that with sixteen sides. In many instances the lower course with sixteen sides is altogether omitted, and the circles placed immediately on the octagon, as in the temple at Vimala Sah (Woodcut No. 130, p. 236). It is difficult to say how far this system might be carried constructively without danger of weakness. The Indian domes seldom exceed 30 ft. in diameter, but this may have arisen more from the difficulty of getting architraves above 12 ft. or 13 ft. in length to support the sides, than from any inability to construct domes of larger diameter in themselves. This last difficulty was to some extent got over by a system of bracketing, by which more than half the bearing of the architrave was thrown on the capital of the column, as shown in Woodcut No. 116. Of course this method might have been carried to any extent, so that a very short architrave would suffice for a large dome; but whether this could be done with elegance is another matter. The Indians seem to have thought not; at least, so far as I know, they never carried it to any extent. Instead of bracketing, however, they sometimes used struts, as shown in Woodcut No. 116, but it is questionable whether that could ever be made a really serviceable constructive expedient in stone architecture.

116. Diagram of Indian construction.

B. Form of bracket capital in the angle of an octagonal dome.

The great advantage to be derived from the mode of constructing domes just described was the power it gave of placing them on pillars without having anything to fear from the lateral thrust of the vault. The Romans never even attempted this, but always, so to speak, brought their vaults down to the ground, or at least could only erect them on great cylinders, which confined the space on every side. The{216} Byzantine architects, as we have seen, cut away a great deal of the substructure, but nevertheless could never get rid of the great heavy piers they were forced to employ to support their domes, and in all ages were forced to use either heavy abutments externally, or to crowd their interiors with masses of masonry, so as in a great measure to sacrifice either the external effect or the internal convenience of their buildings to the constructive exigencies of their domes. This in India never was the case; all the pressure was vertical, and to ensure stability it only required sufficient strength in the support to bear the downward pressure of the mass—an advantage the importance of which is not easily over-estimated.

One of the consequences of this mode of construction was, that all the decoration of the Indian domes was horizontal, or, in other words, the ornaments were ranged in concentric rings, one above the other, instead of being disposed in vertical ribs, as in Roman or Gothic vaults. This arrangement allows of far more variety without any offence to good taste, and practically has rendered some of the Indian domes the most exquisite specimens of elaborate roofing that can anywhere be seen. Another consequence of this mode of construction was the employment of pendants from the centres of the domes, which are used to an extent that would have surprised even the Tudor architects of our own country. With them, however, the pendant was an architectural tour de force, requiring great constructive ingenuity and large masses to counterbalance it, and is always tending to destroy the building it ornaments; while the Indian pendant, on the contrary, only adds its own weight to that of the dome, and has no other prejudicial tendency. Its forms, too, generally have a lightness and elegance never even imagined in Gothic art; it hangs from the centre of a dome more like a lustre of crystal drops than a solid mass of marble or of stone.

117. Diagram of the arrangement of the pillars of a Jaina Dome.

118. Diagram Plan of Jaina Porch.

As before remarked, the eight pillars that support the dome are almost never left by themselves, the base being made square by the addition of four others at the angles. There are many small buildings so constructed with only twelve pillars, as shown in the annexed diagram (No. 117), but two more are oftener added on each face, making twenty altogether, as shown on the upper side of the annexed diagram (No. 118); or four on each face, making twenty-eight; or again, two in front of these four, or six on each{217} face, so as to make thirty-six; and the same system of aggregation is carried on till the number of pillars reaches fifty-six (Woodcut No. 119), which is the largest number I ever saw surrounding one dome; but any number of these domes may surround one temple, or central dome, and the number consequently be multiplied ad infinitum. When so great a number of pillars is introduced as in the last instance, it is usual to make the outmost compartment on each face square, and surmount it with a smaller dome. This is occasionally though rarely done even with the smallest number.

119. Diagram of Jaina Porch.

The first result of this arrangement is, that the Hindus obtained singularly varied outline in plan, producing the happiest effects of light and shade with every change in the sun’s position. Another result was, that by the accentuation of the salient and re-entering angles, they produced those strongly-marked vertical lines which give such an appearance of height to Gothic designs. To accomplish this, however, the Western architects were obliged to employ buttresses, pinnacles, and other constructive expedients. The Hindus obtained it by a new disposition of the plan without anywhere interrupting the composition. This form of outline also expresses the internal arrangements of the porch better than could be done by the simpler outline of either a square or circle, such as is usually employed in Europe. Its greatest merit, however, is, that the length of the greater aisles is exactly proportioned to their relative width as compared with that of the subordinate aisles. The entrance being in the angle, the great aisle forms the diagonal, and is consequently in the ratio of 10 to 7, as compared to what it would be if the entrance were in the centre of the side, where we usually place it. From the introduction of the octagonal dome in the centre the same proportion (correctly 707 to 1000) prevails between the central and side aisles, and this again is perhaps the most pleasing that has yet been introduced anywhere. In Gothic churches the principal aisles are generally twice as wide as the side ones, but they are also twice as high, which restores the proportion. Here, where the height of all is the same, or nearly so, this gradation just suffices to give variety, and to mark the relative importance of the parts, without the one overpowering the other: and neither has the appearance of being too broad nor too narrow.{218}

It is, of course, difficult for those who have never seen a building of the class just described to judge of the effect of these arrangements; and they have seldom been practised in Europe. There is, however, one building in which they have accidentally been employed to a considerable extent, and which owes its whole beauty to the manner in which it follows the arrangement above described. That building is Sir Christopher Wren’s church of St. Stephen’s, Walbrook. Internally its principal feature is a dome supported on eight pillars, with four more in the angles, and two principal aisles crossing the building at right angles, with smaller square compartments on each side. This church is the great architect’s masterpiece, but it would have been greatly improved had its resemblance to a Hindu porch been more complete. The necessity of confining the dome and aisles within four walls greatly injures the effect as compared with the Indian examples. Even the Indian plan of roofing, explained above, might be used in such a building with much less expense and less constructive danger than a Gothic vault of the same extent.

Plans.

Up to the present time only one temple has been discovered in India which gives us even a hint of how the plans of the Buddhist Chaitya Halls became converted into those of the Jaina and Hindu temples. Fortunately, however, its evidence is so distinct that there can be very little doubt about the matter. The temple in question is situated in the village of Aiwulli, in Dharwar, in western India, not far from the place where the original capital of the Chalukyan sovereigns is supposed to have been situated, and near the caves of Badami on the one hand and the temples of Pittadkul on the other. Its date is ascertained by an inscription on its outer gateway, containing the name of Vicramaditya Chalukya, whom we know from inscriptions certainly died in A.D. 680, and with less certainty that he commenced to reign A.D. 650.[255] The temple itself may possibly be a little older, but the latter may fairly be taken as a medium date representing its age. It is thus not only the oldest structural temple known to exist in western India, but in fact the only one yet discovered that can with certainty be said to have been erected before the great cataclysm of the beginning of the 8th century.

Mr. Burgess is of opinion that it was originally dedicated to Vishnu,[256] but this does not seem quite clear. There certainly are Jaina figures among those that once adorned it;[257] and it seems to be{219} a fact that though the Jains admitted Siva, Vishnu, and all the gods of the Hindu Pantheon into their temples, there is no evidence of the reverse process. The Hindus never admitted the human Tirthankars of the Jains among their gods. Its original dedication is fortunately, however, of very little importance for our present purposes. The religions of the Jains and Vaishnavas, as pointed out above (p. 40), were, in those days and for long afterwards, so similar that it was impossible to distinguish between them.[258] Besides this, the age when this temple was erected was the age of toleration in India. The Chinese traveller Hiouen Thsang has left us a most vivid description of a great quinquennial festival, at which he was present at Allahabad in A.D. 643, at which the great King Siladitya presided, and distributed alms and honours, on alternate days, to Buddhists, Brahmans, and heretics of all classes, who were assembled there in tens of thousands, and seem to have felt no jealousy of each other, or rivalry that led, at least, to any disturbance.[259] It was on the eve of a disruption that led to the most violent contests, but up to that time we have no trace of dissension among the sects, nor any reason to believe that they did not all use similar edifices for their religious purposes, with only such slight modifications as their different formulæ may have required (Woodcut No. 120).

120. Old Temple at Aiwulli. (From a Plan by Mr. Burgess.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

Be this as it may, any one who will compare the plan of the chaitya at Sanchi (Woodcut No. 40), which is certainly Buddhist, with that of this temple at Aiwulli, which is either Jaina or Vaishnava, can hardly fail to perceive how nearly identical they must have been when complete. In both instances, it will be observed, the apse is solid, and it appears that this always was the case in structural free-standing chaityas. At least, in all the rock-cut examples, so far as is known, the pillars round the apse are different from those that separate the nave from the aisles; they never have capitals or bases, and are mere plain makeshifts. From the nature of their situation in the rock, light could not be admitted to the aisle behind the apse from the outside, but must be borrowed from the front, and a solid apse was consequently inadmissible; but in free-standing examples, as at Aiwulli, it was easy to introduce windows there or anywhere. Another change was necessary when, from an apse sheltering a relic-shrine, it became a cell containing an image of a god; a door was then indispensable, and also a thickening of the wall when it was necessary{220} it should bear a tower or sikra to mark the position of the cella on the outside. Omitting the verandah, the other changes introduced between the erection of these two examples are only such as were required to adapt the points of support in the temple to carry a heavy stone roof, instead of the light wooden superstructure of the Buddhist chaitya. (Woodcut No. 121.)

121. Temple at Aiwulli. (From a Photograph.)

It may be a question, and one not easy to settle in the present state of our knowledge, whether the Buddhist chaityas had or had not verandahs, like the Aiwulli example. The rock-cut examples naturally give us no information on this subject, but the presumption certainly is, looking at their extreme appropriateness in that climate, that they had this appendage, sometimes at least, if not always.{221}

If from this temple at Aiwulli we pass to the neighbouring one at Pittadkul, built probably a couple of centuries later, we find that we have passed the boundary line that separates the ancient from the mediæval architecture of India, in so far at least as plans are concerned (Woodcut No. 122). The circular forms of the Buddhists have entirely disappeared, and the cell has become the base of a square tower, as it remained ever afterwards. The nave of the chaitya has become a well defined mantapa or porch in front of, but distinct from, the cell, and these two features in an infinite variety of forms, and with various subordinate adjuncts, are the essential elements of the plans of the Jaina and Hindu temples of all the subsequent ages.

122. Plan of Temple at Pittadkul. (From a Plan by Mr. Burgess.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

The procession-path round the cell—called Pradakshina—as that round the apse, remained for some centuries as a common but not a universal feature. The verandah disappeared. Round a windowless cell it was useless, and the pillared porches contained in themselves all the elements of shelter or of shadow that were required.

Sikras.

There is one other peculiarity common to both Jaina and Hindu architecture in the north of India that requires notice, before proceeding to describe particular examples. It is the form of the towers or spires called Sikras, or Vimanas, which invariably surmount the cells in which the images are placed. It is probably correct to assert that the images of the Tirthankars or of the Hindu deities are invariably placed in square, generally cubical cells, of no great dimension, and that these cells receive their light from the doorway only. It seems also an invariable rule that the presence and position of the cell should be indicated externally by a tower or spire, and that these towers, though square or nearly so in plan, should have a curvilinear outline in elevation. If the tower at Buddh Gaya (ante, p. 70) retains unaltered the original form given to it when erected in the 5th or 6th century, this dictum would not apply to Buddhist architecture. As it is, however, the only Buddhist sikra yet discovered it is hardly fair to draw any decided inference from one single example, while with Jaina or Hindu towers I know of no exception. Take for instance the tower represented in the following woodcut (No. 123), which purports to be an elevation of the celebrated Black Pagoda at Kanaruc in Orissa, and may be looked upon as a typical example of the style, and of which it may be considered as a fair medium{222} example. The upper part of the tower, to some extent, overhangs its base. It bends inward towards the summit, and is surmounted by what is called an Amalaka from its supposed resemblance to a fruit of the name—Phyllanthus emblica. This, however, is certainly a mistake. Had it been said it was copied from a melon or any large gourd that was divided into pips externally—if there are any such—there are some early examples that might seem to countenance such an idea; but the Phyllanthus is so insignificant a berry that it could hardly ever have been adopted as an architectural model. Besides this its peculiar nicked form occurs frequently in old examples as a sort of blocking course dividing the sikras horizontally into numerous small compartments, and it seems as if what is used there in a straight-lined form, was employed as a circular ornament at the summit. It is a very beautiful architectural device, and was, as far as I can see, adopted only because it was so, and contrasted brilliantly with the flat ornaments with which it was employed. At present we do not seem to be in a position to explain its origin, or that of a great many other details that are frequently met with in Hindu architecture.

123. Restored Elevation of the Black Pagoda at Ranaruc.
(From a Drawing by the Author.) No scale.

{223}

Whatever its origin, this amalaka is generally surmounted by a flat dome of reverse curvature, in the centre of which stands the kullus, or pinnacle, in the form of a vase, generally of very beautiful and graceful design.

124. Diagram Plan and Section of the Black Pagoda at Kanaruc, designed to explain the construction of Hindu Temples.

The great and at first sight puzzling question is, from what original is this curious combination of forms derived? It is like nothing found anywhere out of India, and like no utilitarian form in India that we now know of. It cannot be derived from the dome-like forms of the topes. They are circular both in plan and elevation. The sikras are straight-lined in plan, and their section is never a segment of a circle; it is not{224} derived from any many-storeyed buildings, as the sikras or vimanas of the Dravidian architecture of the south of India, which seem certainly to have been copied from the many-storeyed viharas of the Buddhists, and we cannot fancy any class of domestic building which could have formed a model out of which they could have been elaborated. One curious thing we do know, which is that all the ancients roofs in India, whether represented in the bas-reliefs or copied in the caves, were invariably curvilinear—generally circular or rather ogee—having a ridge added externally to throw off the rain from that weakest part; but nothing on any bas-relief or painting gives us a hint of any building like these sikras.

Another curious and perplexing circumstance regarding the sikras is that when we first meet them, at Bhuvaneswar for instance, or the Bay of Bengal, or at Pittadkul in the 7th century, on the west coast of India, the style is complete and settled in all its parts. There was no hesitation then, nor has there been any since. During the twelve or thirteen centuries that have elapsed since the erection of these earliest known examples, they have gone on becoming more and more attenuated, till they are almost as pointed as Gothic spires, and their degree of attenuation is no bad test of their age; but they never changed in any essential feature of the design. All the parts found in the oldest examples are retained in the most recent, and are easily recognisable in the buildings of the present century.

The one hypothesis that occurs to me as sufficient to account for this peculiarity is to assume that it was a constructive necessity. If we take for instance an assumed section of the diagram (Woodcut No. 124, p. 223), it will be seen how easily a very tall pointed horizontal arch, like that of the Treasury at Mycenæ (Woodcut No. 122, vol. i.), would fit its external form. In that case we might assume that the tower at Buddh Gaya took a straight-lined form like that represented in Woodcuts Nos. 128, 129, vol. i., while the Hindus took the more graceful curvilinear shape, which certainly was more common in remote classical antiquity,[260] and as it is found in Assyria may have reached India at a remote period.

This hypothesis does not account for the change from the square to the circular form in the upper part, nor for its peculiar ornamentation; but that may be owing to our having none of the earlier examples. When we first meet with the form, either in Dharwar or Orissa, it is complete in all its parts, and had evidently{225} reached that state of perfection through long stages of tentative experience. The discovery of some earlier examples than we now know may one day tell us by what steps that degree of perfection was reached, but in the meanwhile I fear we must rest content with the theory just explained, which, on the whole, may be considered sufficient for present purposes at least.[261]{226}

## CHAPTER III.
NORTHERN JAINA STYLE.

CONTENTS.

Palitana—Girnar—Mount Abu—Parisnath—Gualior—Khajurâho.

Palitana.

The grouping together of their temples into what may be called “Cities of Temples” is a peculiarity which the Jains practised to a greater extent than the followers of any other religion in India. The Buddhists grouped their stupas and viharas near and around sacred spots, as at Sanchi, Manikyala, or in Peshawur, and elsewhere; but they were scattered, and each was supposed to have a special meaning, or to mark some sacred spot. The Hindus also grouped their temples, as at Bhuvaneswar or Benares, in great numbers together; but in all cases, so far as we know, because these were the centres of a population who believed in the gods to whom the temples were dedicated, and wanted them for the purposes of their worship. Neither of these religions, however, possess such a group of temples, for instance, as that at Sutrunjya, or Palitana, as it is usually called, in Gujerat, about thirty miles from Gogo, on its eastern coast (Woodcut No. 125). No survey has yet been made of it, nor have its temples been counted; but it covers a very large space of ground, and its shrines are scattered by hundreds over the summits of two extensive hills and in the valley between them. The larger ones are situated in tûks, or separate enclosures, surrounded by high fortified walls; the smaller ones line the silent streets. A few yatis, or priests, sleep in the temples and perform the daily services, and a few attendants are constantly there to keep the place clean, which they do with the most assiduous attention, or to feed the sacred pigeons, which are the sole denizens of the spot; but there are no human habitations, properly so called, within the walls. The pilgrim or the stranger ascends in the morning, and returns when he has performed his devotions or satisfied his curiosity. He must not eat, or at least must not cook his food, on the sacred hill, and he must not sleep there. It is a city of the gods, and meant for them only, and not intended for the use of mortals.

Jaina temples and shrines are, of course, to be found in cities, and{227}

125. The Sacred Hill of Sutrunjya, near Palitana.

where there are a sufficient number of votaries to support a temple, as in other religions; but, beyond this, the Jains seem, almost more than any sect, to have realised the idea that to build a temple, and to place an image in it, was in itself a highly meritorious act, wholly irrespective of its use to any of their co-religionists. Building a temple is with them a prayer in stone, which they conceive to be{228} eminently acceptable to the deity and likely to secure them benefits both here and hereafter.

It is in consequence of the Jains believing to a greater extent than the other Indian sects in the efficacy of temple-building as a means of salvation, that their architectural performances bear so much larger a proportion to their numbers than those of other religions. It may also be owing to the fact that nine out of ten, or ninety-nine in a hundred, of the Jaina temples are the gifts of single wealthy individuals of the middle classes, that these buildings generally are small and deficient in that grandeur of proportion that marks the buildings undertaken by royal command or belonging to important organised communities. It may, however, be also owing to this that their buildings are more elaborately finished than those of more national importance. When a wealthy individual of the class who build these temples desires to spend his money on such an object, he is much more likely to feel pleasure in elaborate detail and exquisite finish than on great purity or grandeur of conception.

All these peculiarities are found in a more marked degree at Palitana than at almost any other known place, and, fortunately for the student of the style, extending through all the ages during which it flourished. Some of the temples are as old as the 11th century, and they are spread pretty evenly over all the intervening period down to the present century. But the largest number and some of the most important are now erecting or were erected in the present century or in the memory of living men. Fortunately, too, these modern examples by no means disgrace the age in which they are built. Their sculptures are inferior, and some of their details are deficient in meaning and expression; but, on the whole, they are equal, or nearly so, to the average examples of earlier ages. It is this that makes Palitana one of the most interesting places that can be named for the philosophical student of architectural art, inasmuch as he can there see the various processes by which cathedrals were produced in the Middle Ages, carried on on a larger scale than almost anywhere else, and in a more natural manner. It is by watching the methods still followed in designing buildings in that remote locality that we become aware how it is that the uncultivated Hindu can rise in architecture to a degree of originality and perfection which has not been attained in Europe since the Middle Ages, but which might easily be recovered by following the same processes.

Girnar.

The hill of Girnar, on the south coast of Gujerat, not far from Puttun Somnath, is another shrine of the Jains, as sacred, but some{229}how not so fashionable in modern times as that at Palitana. It wants, consequently, that bewildering magnificence arising from the number and variety of buildings of all ages that crowd that temple city. Besides this, the temples themselves at Girnar lose much of their apparent size from being perched on the side of a hill rising 3500 ft. above the level of the sea, composed of granite rocks strewn about in most picturesque confusion.

Although we have no Girnar Mahatmya to retail fables and falsify dates, as is done at Sutrunjya, we have at Girnar inscriptions which prove that in ancient times it must have been a place of great importance. On a rock outside the town at its foot, called par excellence Junaghar—the Old Fort—Asoka, B.C. 250, carved a copy of his celebrated edicts.[262] On the same rock, in A.D. 151, Rudra Dama, the Sah king of Saurastra, carved an inscription, in which he boasted of his victories over the Sat Karni, king of the Dekhan, and recorded his having repaired the bridge built by the Maurya Asoka.[263] The embankment of the Sudarsana lake again burst and carried away this bridge, but was again repaired by Skanda, the last of the great Guptas, in the year A.D. 457,[264] and another inscription on the same rock records this event.

A place where three such kings thought it worth while to record their deeds or proclaim their laws must, one would think, have been an important city or place at that time; but what is so characteristic of India occurs here as elsewhere. No material remains are found to testify to the fact.[265] There are no remains of an ancient city, no temples or ruins that can approach the age of the inscriptions, and but for their existence we should not be aware that the place was known before the 10th century. There are, it is true, some caves in the Uparkot which may be old; but they have not yet been examined by any one capable of discriminating between ancient and modern things, and till so visited their evidence is not available.[266]{230} My impression is that they may belong to the age of the Guptas, which was a great age for excavating caves of this class in India, but we must await further information before deciding.

126. Temple of Neminatha, Girnar. (From a Plan by Mr. Burgess.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

The principal group of temples at Girnar, some sixteen in number, is situated on a ledge about 600 ft. below the summit, and still consequently nearly 3000 ft. above the level of the sea. The largest, possibly also the oldest of these, is that of Neminatha (Woodcut No. 120). An inscription upon it records that it was repaired in A.D. 1278, and unfortunately a subsequent restorer has laid his heavy hand upon it, so that it is difficult now to realise what its original appearance may have been. This unfortunately is only too often the case with Jaina temples. If a Hindu temple or Mahomedan mosque is once deserted and goes to decay, no one ever after repairs it, but its materials are ruthlessly employed to build a new temple or mosque according to the newest fashion of the day. With the Jains it is otherwise. If a man{231} is not rich enough to build a new fane, he may at least be able to restore an old one, and the act with them seems equally meritorious, as it usually is considered to be with us; but the way they set about it generally consists in covering up the whole of the outside with a thick coating of chunam, filling up and hiding all the details, and leaving only the outline. The interior is generally adorned with repeated coats of whitewash, as destructive to artistic effect, but not so irreparable.

The plan and the outline are generally, however, left as they were originally erected, and that is the case with the temple of Neminatha. It stands in a courtyard measuring 195 ft. by 130 ft. over all externally. The temple itself has two porches or mantapas, one of which is called by Hindu architects the Maha Mantapa, the other the Ard’ha Mantapa,[267] though it is not quite clear to which of the two the term Maha, or great, should be applied in this instance; I would say the inner, though that is certainly not the sense in which the term is usually understood.

Around the courtyard are arranged seventy cells with a covered and enclosed passage in front of them, and each of these contains a cross-legged seated figure of the Tirthankar to whom the temple is dedicated, and generally with a bas-relief or picture representing some act in his life. But for the fall of the rock there would have been nine or ten more cells, and indeed this repetition of the images of the saint, like the multiplication of temples, seems to have been the great aim of the Jaina architects. As we shall presently see in a Jaina temple at Brambanam in Java, there were 236 small temples or cells surrounding the great one, and there, as here, each of them was intended to contain a similar image of one of the Tirthankars.

Immediately behind the temple of Neminatha is a triple one erected by the brothers Tejpala and Vastupala, who also erected one of the principal temples in Abu. From inscriptions upon its walls it seems to have been erected in A.D. 1177. The plan is that of three temples joined together, an arrangement not unfrequently found in the south, but rare in the north, which is to be regretted, as it is capable of great variety of effect, and of light and shade to a greater extent than plainer forms. In this instance there is an image of Mallinatha, the 19th Tirthankar, in the central cell, but the lateral ones each contain a remarkable solid pile of masonry called a Samosan, that on the north side named Mera or Sumera—a fabled mountain of the Jains and Hindus—having a square base (Woodcut No. 127); that on the south, called Samet Sikhara—Parisnath, in Bengal—with a nearly circular base. Each rises in four tiers of diminishing width, nearly to{232} the roof, and is surmounted by a small square canopy over the images.[268] From this it would appear that with the Jains, the Mounts Girnar, Sutrunjya, Abu, &c., were not only holy places, but holy things, and that with them—as with the Syrians—the worship of high places was really a part of their religion.

127. Plan of Temple of Tejpala and Vastupala. (From a Plan by Mr. Burgess.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

Some of the other temples at Girnar are interesting from their history, and remarkable from fragments of an ancient date that have survived the too constant repairs; but without illustrating them it would only be tedious to recapitulate their names, or to attempt to describe by words objects which only the practised eye of the Indian antiquary can appreciate. Not far from the hill, however, on the sea-shore, stands the temple of Somnath, historically perhaps the most celebrated in India, from the campaign which Mahmood of Gazni undertook for its destruction in 1025, and the momentous results that campaign had eventually on the fate of India.

128. Plan of Temple at Somnath. (From a Plan by Mr. Burgess.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

As will be seen from the annexed plan (Woodcut No. 128) the temple itself never could have been remarkable for its dimensions, probably it never{233} exceeded about 130 ft. over all, but the dome of its porch, which measures 33 ft. across, is as large as any we know of its age. From the accounts, however, which we have of the siege, it is evident that it was enclosed like the temple of Neminatha (Woodcut No. 126) in a courtyard, and that may have been of surpassing magnificence. Though very similar in plan, it is nearly twice the dimensions of that of Neminatha, and if its court was proportionately large, it may really have justified all that has been said regarding its splendour. From what fragments of its sculptured decorations remain, they too must have been of great beauty, quite equal to anything we know of this class, or of their age. It has not yet been determined, however, whether what we now see are fragments of the temple attacked by Mahmood, and consequently whether they belong to the 10th or even the 9th century, or whether they may be due to a repair which was effected in the 12th. As the story is now told, after Mahmood’s departure it was restored by Bhima Deva of Anhilwarra Puttun, who reigned 1021-1073, and adorned by Siddha Raja, 1093-1143, and lastly by Kumara Pala in 1168. Generally it is thought that what we now see belongs to the last-named king. Any one on the spot, thoroughly acquainted with the subject, might discriminate among these and tell us its story. In so far as photographs enable us to judge, it would appear that a considerable portion of what we now see belongs to the original fane, though very much altered and knocked about by subsequent restorers.

Another point of dispute is the name of the god to whom the temple was dedicated when the Moslem marched against it. From the name Someswara, it is generally assumed to have been Siva. If, however, that had been the case, the image in the sanctuary would almost certainly have been a lingam. The Mahomedan historians, however, represent it distinctly as having a head with eyes, arms, and a belly.[269] In that case it must either have been Vishnu or one of the Tirthankars. I can find no trace of Vishnuism in Gujerat at this period, but what seems to me to settle the case is, that all the kings above mentioned, who took part in the repairs after the departure of Mahmood, were undoubtedly Jains, and they would hardly have repaired or rebuilt a temple belonging to another sect.{234}

Mount Abu.

It is hardly to be wondered at that Mount Abu was early fixed upon by the Hindus and Jains as one of their sacred spots. Rising from the desert as abruptly as an island from the ocean, it presents on almost every side inaccessible scarps 5000 ft. or 6000 ft. high, and the summit can only be approached by ravines cut into its sides. When the summit is reached, it opens out into one of the loveliest valleys imaginable, six or seven miles long by two or three miles in width, cut up everywhere by granite rocks of the most fantastic shapes, and the spaces between them covered with trees and luxuriant vegetation. The little Nucki Talao, or Pearl Lake, is one of the loveliest gems of its class in all India, and it is near to it, at Dilwarra, that the Jains selected a site for their Tirth, or sacred place of rendezvous. It cannot, however, be said that it has been a favourite place of worship in modern times. Its distance and inaccessibility are probably the causes of this, and it consequently cannot rival either Palitana or Girnar in the extent of its buildings; but during the age of Jaina supremacy it was adorned with several temples, two of which are unrivalled for certain qualities by any temples in India. They are built wholly of white marble, though no quarries of that material are known to exist within 300 miles of the spot, and to transport and carry it up the hill to the site of these temples must have added immensely to the expense of the undertaking.

The more modern of the two was built by the same brothers, Tejpala and Vastupala, who erected the triple temple at Girnar (Woodcut No. 127). This one, we learn from inscriptions, was erected between the years 1197 and 1247, and for minute delicacy of carving and beauty of detail stands almost unrivalled even in the land of patient and lavish labour.[270]

The other, built by another merchant prince, Vimala Sah, apparently about the year A.D. 1032,[271] is simpler and bolder, though still as elaborate as good taste would allow in any purely architectural object. Being one of the oldest as well as one of the most complete examples known of a Jaina temple, its peculiarities form a convenient introduction to the style, and among other things serve to illustrate how complete and perfect it had already become when we first meet with it in India.{235}

The annexed plan (Woodcut No. 129) will suffice to explain the general arrangements of the temple of Vimala Sah, which, as will be observed, are similar to some we have already met, though of course varying considerably in extent and detail.

129. Temple of Vimala Sah, Mount Abu. (From a Plan by the Author.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

The principal object here, as elsewhere, is a cell lighted only from the door, containing a cross-legged seated figure of the saint to whom the temple is dedicated, in this instance Parswanatha. The cell, as in all other examples, terminates upwards in a sikra, or pyramidal spire-like roof, which is common to all Hindu and Jaina temples[272] of the age in the north of India. To this, as in almost all instances, is attached a portico, generally of considerable extent, and in most examples surmounted by a dome resting on eight pillars, which forms indeed the distinguishing characteristic of the style, as well as its most beautiful feature. In this example the portico is composed of forty-eight free-standing pillars, which is by no means an unusual number; and the whole is enclosed in an oblong courtyard, about 140 ft. by 90 ft., surrounded by a double colonnade of smaller pillars, forming porticos to a range of cells, fifty-five in number, which enclose it on all sides, exactly as they do in Buddhist viharas. In this case, however, each cell, instead of being the residence of a monk, is occupied by one of those cross-legged images which belong alike to Buddhism and Jainism, and between which so many find it difficult to distinguish. Here they are, according to the Jaina practice, all repetitions of the same image of Parswanatha, and over the door of each cell, or on its jambs, are sculptured scenes from his life.

In other religions there may be a great number of separate similar{236} chapels attached to one building, but in no other would fifty-five be found, as in this example, or the seventy that surround the temple of Neminatha at Girnar (Woodcut No. 126), each containing an image of the same saint, and all so identical as to be undistinguishable. With the Jains it seems to be thought the most important point that the deity or saint is honoured by the number of his images, and that each image should be provided with a separate abode. In other examples, however, it is only a separate niche. On some Jaina monuments the image of the Tirthankar is repeated hundreds, it may almost be said a thousand times over, all the images identical, and the niches arranged in rows beside and above each other, like pigeon-holes in a dovecote.

130. Temple of Vimala Sah, Mount Abu. (From a Sketch by the Author.)

{237}

Externally the temple is perfectly plain, and there is nothing to indicate the magnificence within, except the spire of the cell peeping over the plain wall, though even this is the most insignificant part of the erection.

131. Pendant in Dome of Vimala Sah Temple at Abu. (From a Photograph.)

The woodcut (No. 130) will give some idea of the arrangement of the porch, but it would require a far more extensive and elaborate drawing to convey a correct impression of its extreme beauty of detail and diversity of design. The great pillars, as will be seen, are of the same height as those of the smaller external porticos; and like them they finish with the usual bracket-capital of the East; upon this an upper dwarf column or attic, if it may be so called, is placed to give them additional height, and on these upper columns rest the great beams or architraves which support the dome; as, however, the bearing is long, at least in appearance, the weight is relieved by the curious angular strut or truss of white marble, mentioned above (p. 215), which, springing from the lower capital, seems to support the middle of the beam.

That this last feature is derived from some wooden or carpentry{238} original, can, I think, scarcely be doubted; but in what manner it was first introduced into masonry construction is unknown; probably it might easily be discovered by a more careful examination of the buildings in this neighbourhood. It continues as an architectural feature down almost to the present day, but gradually becoming more and more attenuated, till at last, except in one example at Delhi, to be mentioned hereafter, it loses all its constructive significance as a supporting member, and dwindles into a mere ornament.

132. Pillars at Chandrávati. (From Tod’s ‘Western India.’)

On the octagon so formed rests the dome, the springing of which is shown in Woodcut No. 130 (p. 236). In this instance a single block in the angles of the octagon suffices to introduce the circle. Above the second row of ornaments sixteen pedestals are introduced supporting statues, and in the centre is a pendant of the most exquisite beauty; the whole is in white marble, and finished with a delicacy of detail and appropriateness of ornament which is probably unsurpassed by any similar example to be found anywhere else. Those introduced by the Gothic architects in Henry VII.’s chapel at{239} Westminster, or at Oxford, are coarse and clumsy in comparison. It is difficult, by any means of illustration, to convey a correct idea of the extreme beauty and delicacy of these pendant ornaments, but the woodcut on page 237 (No. 131) from a photograph will explain their form, even if it cannot reflect their beauty.

As before hinted, there never seems to have been any important town on Mount Abu. It was too inaccessible for that purpose; but a few miles to the southward on the plain are the remains of an extensive city, called Chandrávati, where there are extensive remains of Jaina temples of the same age and style as those on the mount, some of them probably more modern, but still all of the best age. The place, however, was destroyed at the time of the Mahomedan conquest in the middle of the 14th century, and has since remained wholly deserted. It has in consequence been used as a quarry by the neighbouring towns and villages, so that few of its buildings remain in a perfect state. The fragment, however, shown in Woodcut No. 132, may serve to illustrate the style in which they were erected, but as no two pillars are exactly alike, it would require hundreds to represent their infinite variety of detail.

Parisnath.

The highest point of the Bengal range of hills, south of Rajmahal, has characteristically been appropriated by the Jains as one of their most favourite Tirths. Its original name apparently was Mount Síkhar, and no less than nineteen of their twenty-four Tirthankars are said to have died and been buried there, among others Parswanatha, the last but one, and he consequently gave the hill the name it now bears.

Unfortunately, no photographer has yet visited the hill, nor any one who was able to discriminate between what was new and what old. Such accounts, however, as we have are by no means encouraging, and do not lead us to expect any very remarkable architectural remains. The temples on the hill are numerous, but they seem all modern, or at least to have been so completely repaired in modern times that their more ancient features cannot now be discerned. Something may also be due to the fact that, since the revival of that religion, Bengal has never been essentially a Jaina country. The Pala dynasty of Bengal seem to have remained Buddhist nearly to the Mahomedan conquest (A.D. 1203), when they seem suddenly to have dropped that religion and plunged headlong into the Vaishnava and Saiva superstitions. Whether from this, or from some other cause we cannot now explain, Jainism never seems to have taken root in Bengal. At the time that it, with Buddhism, took its rise in the 6th century B.C., Behar was the intellectual{240} and the political centre of India, and Buddhism long held its sway in the country of its birth. Before, however, Jainism became politically important, the centre of power had gravitated towards the West, and Jainism never seems to have attained importance in the country where it first appeared. Were it not for this, there seems little doubt but that Parisnath would have been more important in their eyes than Palitana or Girnar; but it is not so, and it consequently occupies only a very slight corner in an architectural history of India.

Besides the effect the Jains sought to obtain by grouping their temples on hill-tops, the love of the picturesque, which they seem to have cultivated more than any other sect in India, led them to seek it in an exactly opposite direction. Some of their favourite Tirths are found in deep and secluded valleys. One at Muktagiri, for instance, near Gawelghur, is situated in a deep well-wooded valley, traversed by a stream that breaks in its course into numerous picturesque waterfalls.

Another example of this love of the picturesque is found at Sadri. In a remote valley piercing the western flank of the Aravulli, there is a group of temples, neither so numerous nor perhaps so picturesquely situated as those at Muktagiri, but of more interest architecturally, and situated in a spot evidently selected for its natural beauties.

The principal temple here was erected by Khumbo Rana of Oudeypore. He seems to have been a zealous promoter of the Jaina religion, and during his long and prosperous reign filled his country with beautiful buildings, both civil and ecclesiastical. Amongst others, he built this temple of Sadri, situated in a lonely and deserted glen, running into the western slope of the Aravulli, below his favourite fort of Komulmeer. Notwithstanding long neglect, it is still nearly perfect, and is the most complicated and extensive Jaina temple I have myself ever had an opportunity of inspecting.

133. Plan of Temple at Sadri.
(From a Plan by the Author.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

From the plan (Woodcut No. 133) it will be perceived that it is{241} nearly a square, 200 ft. by 225 ft., exclusive of the projections on each face. In the centre stands the great shrine, not, however, occupied, as usual, by one cell, but by four; or rather four great niches, in each of which is placed a statue of Adinatha, or Rishabdeva, the first and greatest of the Jaina saints. Above this are four other niches, similarly occupied, opening on the terraced roofs of the building. Near the four angles of the court are four smaller shrines, and around them, or on each side of them, are twenty domes, supported by about 420 columns; four of these domes—the central ones of each group—are three storeys in height, and tower over the others; and one—that facing the principal entrance—is supported by the very unusual number of sixteen columns, and is 36 ft. in diameter, the others being only 24 ft. Light is admitted to the building by four uncovered courts, and the whole is surrounded by a range of cells, many of them now unoccupied, each of which has a pyramidal roof of its own.

134. View in the Temple at Sadri. (From a sketch by the Author.)

The internal effect of this forest of columns may be gathered from the view (Woodcut No. 134) taken across one of its courts; but it is impossible that any view can reproduce the endless variety of perspective and the play of light and shade which results from the disposition of the pillars, and of the domes, and from the mode in which the light{242} is introduced. A wonderful effect also results from the number of cells, most of them containing images of the Tirthankar, which everywhere meet the view. Besides the twelve in the central sikras there are eighty-six cells of very varied form and size surrounding the interior, and all their façades more or less adorned with sculpture.

135. External View of the Temple at Sadri.

The general external effect of the Sadri Temple may be judged of by Woodcut No. 135; owing to its lofty basement, and the greater elevation of the principal domes, it gives a more favourable impression of a Jaina temple than is usually the case—the greatest defect of these buildings as architectural designs being the want of ornament on their exterior faces; this, however, is more generally the case in the older than in the more modern temples.

The immense number of parts in the building, and their general smallness, prevents its laying claim to anything like architectural grandeur; but their variety, their beauty of detail—no two pillars in the whole building being exactly alike—the grace with which they are arranged, the tasteful admixture of domes of different heights with flat ceilings, and the mode in which the light is introduced, combine to produce an excellent effect. Indeed, I know of no other building in India, of the same class, that leaves so pleasing an impression, or affords so many hints for the graceful arrangement of columns in an interior.

Besides its merits of design, its dimensions are by no means to be despised; it covers altogether about 48,000 sq. ft., or nearly as much as one of our ordinary mediæval cathedrals, and, taking the basement into account, is nearly of equal bulk; while in amount of labour and of sculptural decorations it far surpasses any.{243}

Gualior.

The rock at Gualior is, and must always have been, one of the most remarkable high places in Central India, and seems, as such, early to have been appropriated by the Jains. Its position and its scarps, however, led to its being fortified, and, as one of the strongest places in India, it was attacked and taken by storm by Altumsh, the first Moslem emperor of Delhi, in A.D. 1232; and from that time till the fall of the Mogul empire it was held by the Mahomedans, or by Hindu kings subject to their suzerainty. Under these circumstances, we should hardly expect to find any extensive ancient Hindu remains in the place. There are, however, two very remarkable temples: one, known as the Sas Bahu, is generally understood to be a Jaina erection, and seems to be so designated and dedicated to Padmanatha, the sixth Tirthankar. General Cunningham doubts this adscription,[273] in consequence of the walls being adorned with bas-reliefs, belonging certainly to the Vaishnava and Saiva sects. As in the case of the Aiwulli temple, it is extremely difficult sometimes to say for what sect a temple was originally erected. In the times of which we are now speaking the sects had not become distinct and antagonistic as they afterwards were. The different deities were, like those of the Greeks and Romans, parts of one religion, which all shared in, and the temples were frequently of a most pantheistic character. Be this as it may, this temple was finished apparently in A.D. 1093, and, though dreadfully ruined, is still a most picturesque fragment. What remains is the cruciform porch of a temple which, when complete, measured 100 ft. from front to rear, and 63 ft. across the arms of the porch. Of the sanctuary, with its sikra, nothing is left but the foundation; but the porch which is three storeys in height, is constructively entire, though its details—and principally those of its roof—are very much shattered (Woodcut No. 136, next page).

An older Jaina temple is described by General Cunningham, but as it was used as a mosque it is more likely that it is a Mahomedan building entirely, though made up of Jaina details.[274] The most striking part of the Jaina remains at Gualior are a series of caves or rock-cut sculptures that are excavated in the rock on all sides, and amount, when taken together, to hardly less than a hundred, great and small. They are, however, very unlike the chaityas or viharas of the Buddhists, still less do they resemble the Brahmanical caves, to be mentioned hereafter. Most of them are mere niches to contain statues, though some are cells that may have been originally intended{244}

136. Jaina Temple at Gualior.
(From a Photograph.)

for residences. One curious fact regarding them is, that, according to inscriptions, they were all excavated within the short period of about thirty-three years, between A.D. 1441 and A.D. 1474. Some of the figures are of colossal size: one, for instance, is 57 ft. high, which is{245} greater than any other in the north of India, though in the south there are several which equal or surpass it, and, as free-standing figures are more expressive and more difficult to execute.

Khajurâho.

The city of Khajurâho, the ancient capital of the Chandels, is situated about 125 miles W.S.W. from Allahabad, and about 150 miles S.E. from Gualior. It is now a wretched deserted place, but has in and around it a group of some thirty temples, which, so far as is at present known, are the most beautiful in form as well as the most elegant in detail of any of the temples now standing in India.[275]

137. Temple of Parswanatha at Khajurâho. (From a Photograph.)

So far as can be made out from such inscriptions as exist, as well as from their style, it appears that all these temples, with two unimportant exceptions, were executed simultaneously and within the limits of the 11th century: and, what is also curious, they seem to be, as nearly as possible, equally divided between the three religions. In each group there is one greater than the rest—a cathedral in fact—round which the smaller ones are clustered. In the Saiva group it is the Kandarya Mahadeva, of which a representation will be given further on; in the Vaishnava group it is the Ramachandra; and in the{246} Jaina the Jinanatha: all three so like one another that it requires very great familiarity with the photographs to distinguish the temple of one religion from those of the others. It looks as if all had been built by one prince, and by some arrangement that neither sect should surpass or be jealous of the other. Either from this, or from some cause we do not quite understand, we lose here all the peculiarities we usually assign to Jaina temples of this age. The vimana or sikra is more important than the porch. There are no courtyards with circumambient cells; no prominent domes, nor, in fact, anything that distinguishes Jaina from Hindu architecture. If not under the sway of a single prince, they must have been erected in an age of extreme toleration, and when any rivalry that existed must only have been among the architects in trying who could produce the most beautiful and most exquisitely adorned building.

As an illustration of one of the three great temples will be given further on, a view of one of the smaller Jaina temples, that of Parswanatha (Woodcut No. 137), will suffice to illustrate the style of art here employed. Its porch either never was added or has been removed and replaced in modern times by a brick abomination with pointed arches. This, however, hardly interferes with the temple itself. There is nothing probably in Hindu architecture that surpasses the richness of its three-storeyed base combined with the extreme elegance of outline and delicate detail of the upper part.

138. Chaonsat Jogini, Khajurâho. (From a Plan by Gen. Cunningham.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

The two exceptional temples above alluded to are, first, one called the Chaonsat Jogini, or sixty-four female demons. It consists merely of a courtyard, measuring 105 ft. by 60 ft. and surrounded by sixty-four small cells each of which is surmounted by a small spire, as shown in the woodcut (No. 138). This is so essentially a Jaina arrangement (see Temple of Neminatha, for instance—Woodcut No. 126), that I have very little doubt this was originally a temple belonging to that religion. The temple itself it is true has gone, but if it was as old{247} as I believe it is,[276] nothing is more probable than that it was of wood, like the old chaityas of the Buddhists, and has perished. If this view is correct it is probably the oldest Jaina temple yet discovered.

The other exceptional building is one of totally different character, and is as remarkable for its extreme elegance, even at Khajurâho, as the other is for its rudeness. It is called Ganthai, either from the bells sculptured on its pillars, or for some other cause unknown. Unfortunately it is only a fragment—a skeleton without flesh—a few pillars of a double portico now standing alone without the walls that once enclosed them (Woodcut No. 139, next page).

From the form of several letters in an inscription, found among these ruins, General Cunningham is inclined to believe that this temple may belong to the sixth or seventh century of our era; which is, as near as may be, the date I would ascribe to it, from the character of its architectural details. But when at the same time from finding a Buddhist statue and a short Buddhist inscription near them (p. 431), he is inclined to assign them to that religion, I beg leave to differ. Till, however, we know more than we now do of what the differences or similarities between the architecture of the Jains and Buddhists were at the age when the temple was erected, it is impossible to argue the question. Almost all we know of Buddhist art at that time being derived from rock-cut examples, we have no pillars so slender as these, but it by no means follows that they may not have existed. They are not known however, while many Jaina examples are known so nearly like these as to establish a strong presumption that they belong to that religion. The plan too of the building, so far as it can be made out, is utterly unlike anything we know that is Buddhist, but very similar to many that certainly are Jaina.[277]

Be this as it may, these pillars are singularly graceful in their form, and elegant in their details, and belong to a style which, if there were more examples of it, I would feel inclined to distinguish as the “Gupta style.” Except, however, some fragments at Erun and these pillars, we have very little we can ascribe with anything like certainty to their age, 400 to 600. It would be most interesting, however, if something more could be discovered, as it is the age when the great Vicramaditya lived, and when Hindu literature reached its highest point of perfection, and one Hindu temple of that age would consequently throw light on many problems. Some Buddhist caves{248}

139. The Ganthai, Khajurâho. (From a Photograph.)

and these Jaina fragments are all, however, that have yet come to light. There seems, nevertheless, very little doubt that more exist in Rajputana and Central India. At Gyraspore, near Bhilsa, 140 miles south-west from this, there is a group of columns arranged like these,{249}

140. Temple at Gyraspore. (From a Photograph.)

and like them deprived of their walls (Woodcut No. 140). In the Mokundra pass there is a third example.[278] Was it that their walls were of sun-burnt bricks? or merely of small square stones which, being easily removed, were utilised? My impression is, the latter was the case; but be this as it may, these Gyraspore pillars are undoubtedly the remains of a Jaina edifice, but of an age considerably more modern than the Ganthai. They can hardly under any circumstances be ascribed to an age anterior to the great civil war which commenced A.D. 650; but they are almost certainly anterior to the great revival in the 10th century. In the same town of Gyraspore is a very grand old temple apparently of about the same age as these pillars. Its details at least are old, but it has been so ruined and{250} repaired, and almost rebuilt, that it is extremely difficult to say what the form or purpose of the original erection may have been. There is also a toran of great beauty in the village, probably of the 11th century, and in fact throughout this region there are numberless remains partially made known to us by photography, but which if scientifically examined would probably suffice to fill up some of the largest gaps in our history, and especially in that of Jaina architecture.

At Bhanghur for instance, in the Alwar territory, there are some very beautiful Jaina temples. One in that neighbourhood, photographed by Captain Impey, belongs to the 10th or 11th century, and is as beautiful as any of its class, either at Khajurâho or elsewhere, and near it again is a colossal Jaina image, called Nan Gûngi, some 20 ft. in height, which is apparently of the same age as the temples, and consequently superior to any of the colossi at Gualior or in the south of India.[279] The Jains as a sect are hardly now known in Rajputana, and their temples are consequently neglected and falling into decay; though some of them, being of the best age and unrestored, are of extreme interest to the investigator of Indian art.

Among these, few are more pleasing than the little temple at Amwah, near Ajunta (Woodcut No. 141). It is only a fragment. The sanctuary with its spire are gone, only the portico remaining; and its roof externally is so ruined, that its design can with difficulty be made out. Yet it stands so well on its stylobate, and the thirty-two small columns that support the roof externally are so well proportioned and so artistically arranged, as to leave little to be desired.

The great feature of the interior is a dome 21 ft. in diameter, supported on twelve richly carved pillars, with eight smaller ones interspersed. Like all Indian domes, it is horizontal in construction, and consequently also in ornamentation, but as that is done here, it is as elegant or more so than the ribbed domes of western art. This one is plain in the centre, having no pendant—which, however, is one of the most marked and pleasing features of Jaina domes, as may be gathered from the example in the temple of Vimala Sah at Mount Abu (Woodcut No. 131).

As before mentioned, the Buddhists, though always employing circular roofs, and in all ages building topes with domical forms externally, never seem to have attempted an internal dome, in stone at least. The Hindus occasionally essayed a timid imitation of those of the Jains, but in no instance with much success. It is essentially a feature of Jaina architecture, and almost exclusively so among the{251} northern Indians, though, why this particular sect should have adopted it, and why they, and they only, should have persevered in using it through so long a period, are questions we are not yet in a position to answer. It was an essential feature in the architecture of the Moslems before they came into India, and they consequently eagerly seized on the domes of the Jains when they first arrived there, and afterwards from them worked out that domical style which is one of the most marked characteristics of their art in India.

141. Porch of Jaina Temple at Amwah, near Ajunta. (From a Photograph by Major Gill.)

One of the most interesting Jaina monuments of the age is the tower of Sri Allat,[280] which still adorns the brow of Chittore (Woodcut No. 142, next page), and is one probably of a great number of similar monuments that may at one time have existed. From their form, however, they are frail, and trees and human violence so easily overthrow them, that we ought not to wonder that so few remain. This one is a singularly elegant specimen of its class, about 80 ft. in height, and adorned with sculpture and mouldings from the base to the summit.[281] An inscription once existed at its base, which gave its date as A.D. 896, and though the slab was detached this is so nearly the date we would arrive at from the style that there seems little doubt that it{252}

142. Jaina Tower of Sri Allat, Chittore. (From a Photograph.)

{253}

was of that age. It was dedicated to Adnath, the first of the Jaina Tirthankars, and his figure is repeated some hundreds of times on the face of the tower, but, so far as I could perceive, not that of any of the other Jaina saints.

The temple in the foreground is of a more modern date, being put together principally of fragments of older buildings which have disappeared.

143. Tower of Victory erected by Khumbo Rana at Chittore. (From a Photograph.)

Most of the buildings above described belong to the first or great age of Jaina architecture, which extended down to about the year 1300, or perhaps a little after that. There seems then to have been a pause, at least in the north of India, but a revival in the 15th century, especially under the reign of Khumbo, one of the most powerful of the kings of the Mewar dynasty whose favourite capital was Chittore. His reign extended from 1418 to 1468, and it is to him that we owe the other of the two towers that still adorn the brow of Chittore. The older one has just been described and illustrated. This one was erected as a pillar of victory to commemorate his victory over Mahmúd of Malwa, in the year 1439. It is therefore in Indian phraseology a Jaya Stambha, or pillar of victory, like that of Trajan at Rome, but in infinitely better taste as an architectural object than the Roman{254} example, though in sculpture it may be inferior. As will be seen from the last woodcut (No. 143), it is nine storeys in height, each of which is distinctly marked on the exterior. A stair in the centre communicates with each, and leads to the two upper storeys, which are open, and more ornamental than those below. It is 30 ft. wide at the base, and more than 120 ft. in height; the whole being covered with architectural ornaments and sculptures to such an extent as to leave no plain parts, while at the same time this mass of decoration is kept so subdued, that it in no way interferes either with the outline or the general effect of the pillar.[282]

The Mahomedans, as we shall afterwards see, adopted the plan of erecting towers of victory to commemorate their exploits, but the most direct imitation was by the Chinese, whose nine-storeyed pagodas are almost literal copies of these Jaina towers, translated into their own peculiar mode of expression.

Other examples of this middle style of Jaina architecture are to be found at Palitana, Girnar, and all the fashionable tirths of the Jainas, but they have not yet been described or illustrated to that extent that enables us always to feel sure that what we see really belongs to this date, and may not be a repair or a modification of some pre-existing building. The Chaumúk—or Four-faced—at Palitana seems certainly to have been erected in its present form in 1618, and is a very grand and beautiful example of the style.[283] The temple too of Ardishur Bagavan, which is the largest single temple on that hill, seems to have assumed its present form in 1530,[284] though parts of it may be older. At least, it is certain that an older temple stood on the spot, though not with the fabulous antiquity ascribed to it by the priests, and credulously repeated by Colonel Tod.[285]

Though deficient in the extreme grace and elegance that characterised the earlier examples, those of the middle style are bold and vigorous specimens of the art, and still show an originality and an adherence to the traditions of the style, and a freedom from any admixtures of foreign elements, which cannot be predicated of the modern style that succeeded it.{255}

## CHAPTER IV.
MODERN JAINA STYLE.

CONTENTS.

Jaina Temple, Delhi—Jaina Caves—Converted Mosques.

The two places in northern India where the most modern styles of Jaina architecture can probably be studied to most advantage are Sonaghur, near Dutteah, in Bundelcund, and Muktagiri, near Gawelghur, in Berar. The former is a granite hill, covered with large loose masses of primitive rock, among which stand from eighty to one hundred temples of various shapes and sizes (Woodcut No. 144, p. 256). So far as can be made out from photographs or drawings,[286] not one of these temples assumed its present form more than one hundred years ago. Their original foundation may be earlier, but of that we know nothing, no traveller having yet enlightened us on the subject, nor explained how and when this hill became a sacred mount.

Like most Hindu buildings of the period, all these temples show very distinctly the immense influence the Mahomedan style of architecture had on that of the native styles at this age. Almost all the temples here are surmounted by the bulbous dome of the Moguls. The native sikra rarely appears, and the openings almost invariably take the form of the Mahomedan foliated pointed arch. The result is picturesque, but not satisfactory when looked closely into, and generally the details want the purity and elegance that characterised the earlier examples.

Muktagiri, instead of being situated on a hill, as the tirths of the Jains usually are, is in a deep romantic valley, and the largest group of temples are situated on a platform at the foot of a waterfall that thunders down from the height of 60 ft. above them. Like those of Sonaghur, they are all of the modern domed style, copied from Moslem art, and none of them, so far as can be ascertained from such illustrations as exist, remarkable for beauty of design. It {256}would, however, be difficult to find another place in India where

144. View of Jaina Temples, Sonaghur, in Bundelcund. (From a Photograph.)

{257}

145. View of the Temple of Shet Huttising at Ahmedabad. (From a Photograph by Colonel Biggs.)

{258}

architecture is so happily combined with the beauties of nature, and produces so pleasing an impression on the lover of the picturesque, though nearer acquaintance may result in disappointment to the antiquarian student of the style.

In remote parts of the empire, and especially in the immediate vicinity of the older shrines, this Mahomedan influence was much less felt than in the places just mentioned. The modern temples, for instance, at Palitana have domes, it is true, but they are much more directly the lineal descendants of the old Jaina domes than copies of those of the Moguls, and the foliated pointed arch rarely, if ever, occurs in the walls of that old city. It requires, indeed, a practised eye to discriminate between what is old and what is new, and without the too manifest inferiority of modern sculpture this would not always be easy even to the most accomplished antiquary.

One example must for the present suffice to show the effect aimed at by this style in recent times, as well as to illustrate how little it has degenerated from its ancient excellence. For, though this woodcut (No. 145) does not prove it, there are photographs in this country which do exhibit the marvellous details of this temple in a manner not to be mistaken. It was erected about thirty years ago by Huttising, a rich Jaina merchant, and dedicated to Dharmanath, the 15th Tirthankar. In this instance the external porch between two circular towers is of great magnificence and most elaborately ornamented, and leads to an outer court with sixteen cells on either side. In the centre of this is a domed porch of the usual form, with twenty pillars (see Woodcut No. 117). This leads to an inner porch of twenty-two pillars, two storeys in height, and with a roof of a form very fashionable in modern Jaina temples, though by no means remarkable for beauty, and difficult to render intelligible without more illustration than it merits. This leads to a triple sanctuary, marked by three sikras, or spires, externally. Behind this is a smaller court with two groups of eight cells, one in each angle, with a larger cell in the centre, and two, still more important, at the point of junction between it and the first court. To the eye of a European, unaccustomed to its forms, some of them may seem strange; but its arrangement, at least, will probably be admitted to be very perfect. Each part goes on increasing in dignity as we approach the sanctuary. The exterior expresses the interior more completely than even a Gothic design; and whether looked at from its courts or from the outside, it possesses variety without confusion, and an appropriateness of every part to the purpose for which it was intended.{259}

Jaina Temple, Delhi.

146. Upper part of Porch of Jaina Temple at Delhi. (From a Photograph.)

There is one other example that certainly deserves notice before leaving this branch of the subject, not only on account of its beauty, but its singularity. In the preceding pages it has frequently been {260}necessary to remark upon that curious wooden strut by which the Jains sought to relieve the apparent weakness of the longer beams under their domes. It occurs at Abu (Woodcut No. 129), at Girnar, at Oudeypore, and many other places we shall have to remark upon in the sequel; everywhere, in fact, where an octagonal dome was used. It was also employed by the Hindus in their torans, and so favourite an ornament did it become that Akbar used it frequently both at Agra and Futtehpore Sikri. For centuries it continued without much alteration, but at last, in such an example as the great Bowli at Bundi,[287] we find it degenerating into a mere ornament. It was left, however, for a Jaina architect of the end of the last or beginning of this century, in the Mahomedan city of Delhi, to suggest a mode by which what was only conventionally beautiful might really become an appropriate constructive part of lithic architecture.

As will be observed in the last cut (No. 146), the architect has had the happy idea of filling in the whole of the back of the strut with pierced foliaged tracery of the most exquisite device—thus turning what, though elegant, was one of the feeblest parts of Jaina design into a thoroughly constructive stone bracket; one of the most pleasing to be found in Indian architecture, and doing this while preserving all its traditional associations. The pillars, too, that support these brackets are of great elegance and constructive propriety, and the whole makes up as elegant a piece of architectural design as any certainly of its age. The weak part of the composition is the dome. It is elegant, but too conventional. It no longer has any constructive propriety, but has become a mere ornament. It is not difficult, however, to see why natives should admire and adopt it. When the eyes of a nation have been educated by a gradual succession of changes in any architectural object, persevered in through five or six centuries, the taste becomes so accustomed to believe the last fashion to be the best, the change has been so gradual, that people forget how far they are straying from the true path. The European, who has not been so educated, sees only the result, without having followed the steps by which it has been so reached, and is shocked to find how far it has deviated from the form of a true dome of construction, and, finding it also unfamiliar, condemns it. So, indeed, it is with nine-tenths of the ornaments of Hindu architecture. Few among us are aware how much education has had to do with their admiration of classical or mediæval art, and few, consequently, perceive how much their condemnation of Indian forms arises from this very want of gradual and appropriate education.{261}

Jaina Caves.

The Jains never were great cave-diggers; the nature of their religion did not require great assembly halls like the chaityas of the Buddhists, nor was it necessary that their priests should live apart in monasteries like those of their predecessors, and their ceremonial affected light and air rather than gloom or mystery. Like the Brahmans, however, during the stage of transition they could hardly refuse entirely to follow a fashion set by the Buddhists, to which all India had been accustomed for nearly 1000 years, and which was in reality a singularly impressive form of temple-building. We find them, consequently, excavating caves at Khandagiri, near Cuttack, in succession to the older ones in the Udayagiri. At Ellora they followed immediately after the Buddhists; and elsewhere there are caves which may be claimed by either religion, so like are they to each other in their transitional state.

Great light has recently been thrown on the history of these excavations by the discovery of a Jaina cave at Badami, in Dharwar, with a well-ascertained date.[288] There is no inscription on the cave itself, but there are three other Brahmanical caves in the same place, one of which has an inscription with an undoubted date, 500 Saka or A.D. 579; and all four caves are so like one another in style that they must have been excavated within the same century. The Jaina cave is probably the most modern; but if we take the year A.D. 650 as a medium date, we may probably consider it as certain within an error of twenty years either way.

The cave itself is very small, only 31 ft. across and about 19 ft. deep, and it is a little uncertain whether the groups of figures at either end of the verandah are integral, or whether they may not have been added at some subsequent period. The inner groups, however, are of the age of the cave, and the architecture is unaltered, and thus becomes a fixed standing-point for comparison with other examples; and when we come to compare it with the groups known as the Indra Subha and Jaganât Subha at Ellora, we cannot hesitate to ascribe them to about the same age. Hitherto, the Jaina group at Ellora has been considered as the most modern there: an impression arising partly from the character of the sculptures themselves, which are neither purely Jaina nor purely Hindu—more, however, from the extreme difficulty of comparing rock-cut examples with structural ones. Our knowledge of the architecture of temples is, in nine cases out of ten, derived from their external forms, to which the interiors are quite subordinate. Cave-temples, however, have practically no exteriors, and at the utmost façades modified to admit{262} more light than is usual in structural edifices, and then strengthened and modified so as to suit rock-cut architecture. As no ancient Jaina temple hitherto known had a dated inscription upon it, nor a tolerably authenticated history, it is no wonder that guesses might be wide of the truth. Now, however, that we know positively the age of one example, all this can be rectified, and there seems no doubt that all the Indra Subha group were finished before the cataclysm—say before A.D. 750.

147. Entrance to the Indra Subha Cave at Ellora. (From a Photograph.)

When with this new light we come to examine with care the architecture of these façades, we find the Ellora group exhibits an extraordinary affinity with the southern style. The little detached shrine in the courtyard of the Indra Subha, and the gateway shown in the above woodcut (No. 147), are as essentially Dravidian in style as the Kylas itself, and, like many of the details of these caves, so nearly identical that they cannot possibly be distant in date. May we, therefore, assume from this that the Chalukyan kingdom of Kalian, in the 7th century of our era, extended from Ellora on the north to Badami on the south, and that all these rock-cut examples, with the temple at Aiwulli (Woodcut No. 120), were excavated or erected under their auspices?

To this we shall have occasion to revert presently, when de{263}scribing the Dravidian style; but meanwhile it may be assumed that this theory represents the facts of the case more nearly than any hitherto brought forward. The Chalukyas of Kalian were situated on the border-line, halfway between the north and the south, and they, or their subjects, seemed to have practised the styles of architecture belonging to those two divisions indiscriminately—it might almost be said alternately—and we consequently find them mixed up here and at Dhumnar in a manner that is most puzzling.

The last king of this race, Vicramaditya II., ascended the throne A.D. 733,[289] and died probably in or about the year A.D. 750. It was probably, therefore, before that date that these Dravidian temple-forms were introduced by the Jains at Ellora. The Kylas and other great Saiva temples were, I believe, excavated by the Cheras or Cholas, who were the Dravidian races, and, if I mistake not, superseded the Chalukyas on the death of Vicramaditya, their last king, and carried their power, as will presently be explained, up to the Nerbudda. The Jains, however, seem to have been earlier in the field, and this little shrine in the court of the Indra Subha looks very much as if it may have been the model that suggested the Kylas, the greatest of all Indian rock-cut examples of its class.

Converted Mosques.

Another form in which we can study the architecture of the Jains in the north of India is the courtyards of the early mosques which the Mahomedans erected on their first entry into India. So essentially do some of these retain their former features that it might be convenient to describe them here. It is doubtful, however, in some instances whether the pillars are—some or all of them—in their original position, or to what extent they have been altered or eked out by the conquerors. Be this as it may, for our present purposes the one fact that is certain is, that none of them are now Jaina temples. All are Mahomedan mosques, and it will, therefore, be more logical, as well as more convenient, to group them with the latter rather than with the former class of buildings.

Were it not for this, the Arhaí-dín-ka Jomphra, at Ajmir—so called—might be, and has been, described as a Jaina temple.[290] So might a great part of the mosque at the Kutub, Delhi. That at Canouge, however, was originally a rearrangement, and has been much altered since I knew it; that at Dhar, near Mandu, is of comparatively recent date; while the Jaina pillars, so frequently used{264} at Ahmedabad in the 15th century, are all imported, and used in positions for which they never were intended.

The astylar temples of the Hindus were useless to the Moslems except as quarries—a purpose to which they were frequently applied; but the light columnar style of the Jains not only supplied materials more easily adapted to their purposes, but furnished hints of which the Moslem architects were not slow to avail themselves. The architecture of Ahmedabad, for instance (A.D. 1396 to 1572), is derived far more directly from the Jaina than from any style familiar to their co-religionists in any other part of the world. The same may be said of that of Juanpore, though in the last-named city there is hardly a stone that can be said to be derived direct from any previously existing building.

The process by which this conversion of a Jaina temple to a Moslem mosque was effected will be easily understood by referring to the plan of that of Vimala Sah, on Mount Abu (Woodcut No. 129, p. 235). By removing the principal cell and its porch from the centre of the court, and building up the entrances of the cells that surround it, a courtyard was at once obtained, surrounded by a double colonnade, which always was the typical form of a mosque. Still one essential feature was wanting—a more important side towards Mecca; this they easily obtained by removing the smaller pillars from that side, and re-erecting in their place the larger pillars of the porch, with their dome in the centre; and, if there were two smaller domes, by placing one of them at each end. Thus, without a single new column or carved stone being required, they obtained a mosque which, for convenience and beauty, was unsurpassed by anything they afterwards erected from their own original designs.{265}

## CHAPTER V.
JAINA STYLE IN SOUTHERN INDIA.

CONTENTS.

Bettus—Bastis.

A good deal has been done lately in the way of photographing the monuments of the Jains in southern India, but nothing, so far as I am aware, has recently been written that gives any statistical account of their present position in the country, nor any information when their establishments were first formed in Mysore and Canara.[291] What is even more to be regretted for our present purposes is, that no plans have been made of their buildings and no architectural details drawn, so that altogether our knowledge of the subject is somewhat superficial; but it is interesting from its extent, and curious from the unexpected relationship it reveals with other styles and countries.

Mr. Burgess’s report has proved that Jains did exist at Aiwulli and Badami (supra, p. 261) as early as the end of the 6th, or certainly in the 7th century; but after that there is a pause or break of four or five centuries, when the style reappears in strength at Belgaon and in that neighbourhood in the 11th and 12th centuries. In the same manner southern Jains seem to have pressed northward as far as Ellora in the 7th or 8th century, taking their Dravidian style with them (supra, p. 261); but there again we stop, in so far as any direct evidence has been found, till the great outburst of Jaina magnificence at the end of the 10th century, which then seems to have continued in the north till disturbed by the Mahomedan invasion. It is by no means clear whether the destruction of their temples, as at Ajmir and Delhi, and the persecution of their faith generally, may not have been the cause that induced the Jains to migrate southward. It certainly was about that time when its greatest development in the south took place. Of course it existed there before,{266} and some of the early kings of Hoisala Bellalas were Jains nominally at least. All their buildings, however, so far as we know them, either at Somnathpur, Bellûr, or Hullabîd, belong to the Vaishnava or Saiva faiths.

Another circumstance which is perplexing, or at least unusual, is, that the Jainism of the south does not seem to be founded on any pre-existing Buddhism. No important Buddhist remains have yet been discovered south of Poona, with the single exception of the Amravati tope and a few caves in its immediate neighbourhood. More may probably exist, or have existed; but the rapid manner in which Hiouen Thsang passes through these countries, and the slight mention he makes of Buddhist establishments,[292] render it doubtful if any important communities belonging to that faith existed in Dravida-desa.[293] In the capital, indeed, Konkanapura, which seems to have been situated somewhere in Northern Mysore, there may have been some extensive Buddhist establishments; but as they have left no memorials on the spot, and no monuments, we may be allowed to suspect they were not so important as he describes them to be in the 7th century.

If, however, there was no Buddhism in the south on which Jainism could be based, there are everywhere traces of the prevalence of Serpent worship in those districts where the religion of Jaina now prevails. Sculptured serpents, with many heads and in all their conventional forms, are found everywhere about and in the temples; and Subramuni, below the Ghâts, is still one of the principal seats of Serpent worship in southern India. It is not, unfortunately, easy to say how far Tree worship was mixed up with the latter faith. Trees perish more easily and quickly than sculptured stones, and when the worship ceases its traces disappear more readily. There are some indications that it did prevail here also, but, till purposely inquired after, it is impossible to say to what extent or how far the indications can be relied upon. Enough, however, is known, even now, to justify the assertion that Tree and Serpent worship did exist antecedently in those districts in which Jainism prevailed in the south, but did not appear in the more purely Dravidian countries where the people are now devoted to the worship of Siva and the Hindu Pantheon.

The truth of the matter appears to be, that until the numerous Jaina inscriptions which exist everywhere in the south are collected{267} and translated, and until plans are made of their buildings, and statistics collected about them, it is idle to speculate either about the time of the introduction of Jainism into the south, or its vicissitudes during its existence there. It is a task which, it is to be feared, few in that Presidency are capable of undertaking, and that fewer still are willing to devote the time and labour requisite for its successful accomplishment; but it is worthy of being attempted, for, if successfully carried out, it would add to our scant stores of knowledge one of the most interesting chapters still available for the religious and artistic history of the people of India.

Bettus.

The first peculiarity that strikes one as distinguishing the Jaina architecture of the south from that of the north, is the division of the southern temples into two classes, called Bastis and Bettus.[294] The former are temples in the usual acceptance of the word, as understood in the north, and, as there, always containing an image of one of the twenty-four Tirthankars, which is the object there worshipped. The latter are unknown in the north; and are courtyards open to the sky and containing images, not of a Tirthankar, but of a Gômati or Gômata Raja so called, though who he was, and why worshipped, no one seems exactly to know. He is not known to the Jains in the north. All the images on the rock at Gualior are of one or other of the Tirthankars, and even the Ulwar colossus, Nan Gûngi, can hardly be identified with these southern images. It looks almost as if some vague tradition of Gautama Buddha the prince, as distinguished from Mahavira the last of the Tirthankars, and who is said to have been his preceptor, had in late times penetrated to the south, and given rise to this peculiar form. Be this, however, as it may, the images of this king or Jaina saint are among the most remarkable works of native art in the south of India. Three of them are known, and have long been known to Europeans,[295] and it is doubtful if any more exist. They are too remarkable objects not to attract the attention of even the most indifferent Saxon. That at Sravana Belgula attracted the attention of the late Duke of Wellington when, as Sir A. Wellesley, he commanded a division at the siege of Seringapatam. He, like all those who followed him, was astonished at the amount of labour such a work must have entailed, and puzzled to know whether it was a part of the hill or had been moved to the spot where it now stands. The former is the more probable theory. The hill called{268} Indra Giri is one mass of granite about 400 ft. in height, and probably had a mass or Tor standing on its summit—either a part of the subjacent mass or lying on it. This the Jains undertook to fashion into a statue 70 ft. 3 in. in height, and have achieved it with marvellous success. The task of carving a rock standing in its place the Hindu mind never would have shrunk from, had it even been twice the size; but to move such a mass up the steep smooth side of the hill seems a labour beyond their power, even with all their skill in concentrating masses of men on a single point. Whether, however, the rock was found in situ or was moved, nothing grander or more imposing exists anywhere out of Egypt, and even there no known statue surpasses it in height, though, it must be confessed, they do excel it in the perfection of art they exhibit.

The image at Kârkala, which is next—its size being 41 ft. 5 in. in height, and weighs about 80 tons[296]—was moved certainly to the place where it now stands, and its date luckily is engraved upon it, A.D. 1432, and it is so like that at Belgula, that there can hardly be much difference between their ages.

The third at Yannûr is smaller, about 35 ft. high apparently,[297] but from the style of art in which it is executed it is probably the oldest of the three (Woodcut No. 148).

148. Colossal Statue at Yannûr.
(From a Photograph.)

All these three figures belong to the Digambara sect of Jains, being entirely naked; and all possess the peculiarity of having twigs of the Bo-tree of Sakya Muni—the Ficus religiosa—twisted round their arms and legs in a manner found{269} nowhere else, and in having serpents at their feet. In the Jaina cave at Badami a similar figure has two serpents wound round its arms and legs precisely as these twigs are here, and the Bo-tree is relegated to the background.[298] This figure, though probably not so old as the cave in which it is found—say A.D. 600—is certainly much older than the three great monoliths, and with other indications renders it probable that the greater prominence of the serpent or the tree is no unfair indication of the relative age of any two statues. In that at Yannûr, the serpents are three-headed and very prominent beside the statue, on steles alongside the legs. At Kârkala they are less so,[299] and at Belgula they are relegated to the base, while the tree with its leaves is there thickly spread over the whole figure.

Bastis.

The principal group of the Bastis of the Jains, at present known at least, above the Ghâts, is that at Sravana Belgula. There are there two hills—the Indragiri, on whose summit the colossal image just described stands, and dominates the plain. On a shoulder of the other, called Chandragiri, stand the Bastis, fifteen in number. As might be expected from their situation, they are all of the Dravidian style of architecture, and are consequently built in gradually receding stories, each of which is ornamented with small simulated cells, as was explained above, p. 134, and will be more fully described presently. No instance occurs among them of the curvilinear sikra or spire, which is universal with the northern Jains, except in the instance of Ellora above alluded to.

Unfortunately, no one has yet thought it worth while to make a plan of any of these temples, nor even to describe them in detail, so that it is difficult to feel sure of anything regarding them. The following woodcut (No. 149) conveys, however, an idea of the general external appearance, which is more ornamental than that of the generality of northern Jaina temples. The outer wall of those in the north is almost always quite plain. The southern ones are as generally ornamented with pilasters and crowned with a row of ornamental cells. Inside is a court probably square and surrounded by cloisters, at the back of which rises the vimana over the cell, which contains the principal image of the Tirthankar. It always is surmounted by a small dome, as is universally the case with every vimana in Dravidian architecture, instead of with the mysterious amalaka ornament of northern sikras.{270}

It may be a vain speculation, but it seems impossible to look at this woodcut, and not be struck with its resemblance to the temples of southern Babylonia (Woodcuts Nos. 47 and 48 of vol. i.). The same division into stories, with their cells; the backward position of the temple itself; the panelled or pilastered basement, are all points of resemblance it seems difficult to regard as purely accidental. The distance of time would seem to bar such an idea, but the combinations of men with bulls and lions, and the many similarities between the Pantheons of Babylonia and India, render the fact of the architecture of the one country influencing that of the other, far from being impossible, though by some it may be considered improbable. I have long tried to shake off the idea as an untenable hypothesis, but every time I return to the study of the subject, its likelihood recurs with increasing strength. Its verification, however, or refutation must depend on our possessing greater knowledge of the subject than we do at present.

149. Jaina Basti at Sravana Belgula. (From a Photograph.)

When we descend the Ghâts into Canara, or the Tulava country, we come on a totally different state of matters. Jainism is the religion of the country, and all or nearly all the temples belong to{271} this sect, but their architecture is neither the Dravidian style of the south, nor that of northern India, and indeed is not known to exist anywhere else in India Proper, but recurs with all its peculiarities in Nepal.

150. Jaina Temple at Moodbidri. (From a Photograph.)

The annexed two views (Woodcuts Nos. 150-51) of one of the largest of these temples, found at a place called Moodbidri,[300] in Canara, will give a fair idea of the general aspect of these temples externally. They are much plainer than Hindu temples usually are. The pillars look like logs of wood with the angles partially chamfered off, so as to make them {272}octagons, and the sloping roofs of the verandahs are so evidently wooden that the style itself cannot be far removed from a wooden original. In many places, indeed, below the Ghâts the temples are still wholly constructed in wood without any admixture of stone, and almost all the features of the Moodbidri temples may be found in wood at the present day. The blinds between the pillars, which are there executed in stone, are found in wood in every city in India, and with very little variation are used by Europeans in Calcutta to a greater extent, perhaps, than they were ever used by the natives.

151. Jaina Temple at Moodbidri. (From a Photograph.)

The feature, however, which presents the greatest resemblance to the northern styles, is the reverse slope of the eaves above the verandah. I am not aware of its existence anywhere else south of Nepal, and it is so peculiar that it is much more likely to have been copied than re-invented.

The interiors of the Canarese temples are in marked contrast with the plainness of the exteriors. Nothing can exceed the richness or the variety with which they are carved. No two pillars seem alike, and many are ornamented to an extent that may seem almost fantastic. This again seems an indication of their recent descent from a wooden{273}

152. Pillar in Temple, Moodbidri. (From a Photograph.)

original. Long habit of using stone would have sobered their forms, {274}and they are now of great thickness—it may even be said massiveness—and this is just such an excess of strength as a people accustomed to wooden architecture would employ when first called upon to replace in stone supports which in wood would have appeared necessary to carry a heavy stone roof (Woodcut No. 152, p. 273).

Their plans, as far as can be made out from photographs, are those usual in Jaina temples—spacious, well-lighted porches, leading to a dark cell in which the image of one of the Tirthankars is placed, naked of course, as all the southern Jains seem to have belonged to the Digambara sect.

Their age has not yet been determined with certainty, as no inscriptions from them have yet been published or translated, but, in so far as information can be gathered from the various sources available, three or four hundred years seems to be about the limit of their age. Some may go back as far as 1300, but it looks as if the kingdom of the Zamorin was at the height of its prosperity about the time it was first visited by the Portuguese, and that the finest temples may belong to that age.

153. Pavilion at Gurusankerry. (From a Photograph.)

Besides the greater temples, there are several varieties of smaller ones which seem peculiar to the style—such, for instance, as the five-pillared shrine at Gurusankerry (Woodcut No. 153). Four-pillared pavilions are not uncommon in front of Hindu temples in the south. There is a very famous one, for instance, on the opposite shore of India at Mahavellipore, but not one, that I know of, with five pillars, or with access to the upper chambers. There are three of these upper chambers in this instance—the two lower now closed, but apparently originally open; but to what use they were devoted, or what purpose they were intended to subserve, is by no means clear. At the base of the temple are a number of stones bearing images of serpents; seven or eight are now there, and the serpents themselves are some with one, others three, five, or seven heads. It may be that this is a serpent temple, and that the living form of this strange divinity, when alive,{275} inhabited the upper storey. But it may also be, that the stones were brought there in modern times, so that till some one on the spot will take the trouble to ascertain the facts of the case, it is not safe to speculate regarding them.

154. Tombs of Priests, Moodbidri. (From a Photograph.)

A third feature, even more characteristic of the style, is found in the tombs of the priests, a large number of which are found in the neighbourhood of Moodbidri. Three of these are illustrated in the annexed Woodcut (No. 154). They vary much in size and magnificence, some being from three to five or seven storeys in height, but they are not, like the storeys of Dravidian temples, ornamented with simulated cells and finishing with domical roofs. The division of each storey is a sloping roof, like those of the pagodas at Katmandhu, and in China or Thibet. In India they are quite anomalous. In the first place, no tombs of priests are known to exist anywhere else, and their forms, too, are quite unlike any other building now known to be standing in any other part of India.{276}

Though not the grandest, certainly the most elegant and graceful objects to be found in Canara belonging to the Jaina style of architecture are the stambhas, which are found attached to almost every temple. These are not, however, peculiar to the place or style. They are used sometimes by the Hindus, but then generally as deepdans, or lamp-bearing pillars, and in that case have some arrangement for exhibiting light from their summit. With the Jains this does not appear ever to have been the case. Their pillars are the lineal descendants of those of the Buddhists, which bore either emblems or statues—generally the former—or figures of animals; with the Jains or Vaishnavas they as generally bore statues. Be this as it may, they seem nowhere to have been so frequent or so elaborately adorned as among the Jains in the south, and especially in Canara. The example here given of one at Gurusankerry is a fair average specimen of its class (Woodcut No. 155). The sub-base is square and spreading; the base itself square, changing into an octagon, and thence into a polygonal figure approaching a circle; and above a wide-spreading capital of most elaborate design. To many this may at first sight appear top-heavy, but it is not so in reality. If you erect a pillar at all, it ought to have something to carry. Those we erect are copied from pillars meant to support architraves, and are absurd solecisms when merely supporting statues; we have, however, got accustomed to them, and our eye is offended if anything better proportioned to the work to be done is proposed; but, looking at the breadth of the base and the strength of the shaft, anything less than here exhibited would be found disproportionately small.

155. Stambha at Gurusankerry. (From a Photograph.)

On the lower or square part of these stambhas, as well as on the pillars inside the temples at Moodbidri (Woodcut No. 152) and elsewhere in Canara, we find that curious interlaced basket-pattern,{277} which is so familiar to us from Irish manuscripts or the ornaments on Irish crosses. As pointed out in a former volume (ii. p. 475), it is equally common in Armenia, and can be traced up the valley of the Danube into central Europe; but how it got to the west coast of India we do not know, nor have we, so far as I know, any indication on which we can rely for its introduction. There was at all times for the last fifteen centuries a large body of Christians established on this coast who were in connection with Persia and Syria, and are so now. It would be strange, indeed, if it were from them the Jains obtained this device. But stranger things have happened than even this in the history of architecture, and few things can be more interesting when the means exist of tracing any connection that may be detected between them.

If any one wished to select one feature of Indian architecture which would illustrate its rise and progress, as well as its perfection and weakness, there are probably no objects more suited for this purpose than these stambhas, or free-standing pillars. They are found of all ages, from the simple and monolithic lâts which Asoka set up to bear inscriptions or emblems, some 250 years B.C. down to the seventeenth or perhaps even eighteenth century of our era. During these 2000 years they were erected first by the Buddhists, then by the Jains, and occasionally by the other sects in all parts of India; and notwithstanding their inherent frailty, some fifty—it may be a hundred—are known to be still standing. After the first and most simple, erected by Asoka, it may be safely asserted that no two are alike though all bear strongly the impress of the age in which they were erected, and all are thoroughly original and Indian in design.

It may be owing to the styloclastic propensities of the Moslems that these pillars are not found so frequently where they have held sway, as in the remoter parts of India; but, whether from this cause or not, they seem to be more frequent in Canara and among the southern Jains than in any other part of India. In the north we depend mainly on the rock-cut examples for their forms, but they are so usual there that it seems hardly doubtful they were relatively as frequent in connection with structural examples, though these have generally disappeared.

It has been suggested that there may be some connection between these stambhas and the obelisks of the Egyptians. The time that elapsed, however, between the erection of the monoliths in the valley of the Nile and those in India seems to render this doubtful, though they were certainly erected for similar purposes and occupied the same position relatively to the temples. When, however, we look at the vast difference between their designs, it is evident, even assuming a connection, that vast ages must have elapsed before the plain straight-lined forms of the obelisks could have been changed into the{278} complicated and airy forms of the Jaina stambhas. The two are the Alpha and Omega of architectural design—the older, simple and severe, beyond any other examples of purely ornamental objects; the latter, more varied and more highly ornamented than almost any others of their class that can be named.

We are hardly yet in a position to push these speculations to their legitimate issue, and must wait for further information before any satisfactory conclusion can be derived from them; but meanwhile it may be pointed out how curiously characteristic of Indian art it is that this little remote province of Tulava, or Canara, should have a style of its own, differing essentially from that found in any other part of the Indian continent, but still having affinities with outlying and distant countries, with which one would hardly suspect any connection but for the indications derived from their architecture.

I cannot offer even a plausible conjecture how or at what time a connection existed between Nepal and Thibet and Canara; but I cannot doubt that such was the case, and that some one with better opportunities will hereafter explain what now seems so mysterious. It is less difficult to conjecture how early and frequent intercourse may have existed between the Persian Gulf and the western shores of India, and how the relations between these two countries may have been so intimate as to account for the amount of Assyrian, or, as we now call them Armenian, forms we now find in the Jaina architecture of southern India, especially in that below the Ghâts. It will require, however, that the Indian branch of the subject should be much more fully and more scientifically investigated than has hitherto been the case before it is worth while to do more than indicate how rich a field lies open to reward the industry of any future explorer.

Map of

INDIA,

Shewing the Principal

INDO-ARYAN

CHALUKYAN & DRAVIDIAN

LOCALITIES.

Vincent Brooks, Day & Son lith.

{279}

## BOOK III.
ARCHITECTURE IN THE HIMALAYAS.

## CHAPTER I.
KASHMIR.

CONTENTS.

Temples—Marttand—Avantipore—Bhaniyar.

Although neither so beautiful in itself, nor so interesting either from an artistic or historical point of view as many others, the architecture of the valley of Kashmir has attracted more attention in modern times than that of any other styles in India, and a greater number of special treatises have been written regarding it than are devoted to all the other styles put together. This arises partly from the beauty of the valley in which the Kashmiri temples are situated. The beauty of its scenery has at all times attracted tourists to its verdant snow-encircled plains, and the perfection of its climate has induced them to linger there, and devote their leisure to the investigation of its treasures, natural and artistic. In this respect their fate is widely different from that of temples situated on the hot and dusty plains of India, where every official is too busy to devote himself to such a task, and travellers too hurried to linger for a leisurely and loving survey of their beauties.

Apart, however, from this adventitious advantage, the temples of Kashmir do form a group well worthy of attention. When one or two spurious examples are got rid of, they form a complete and homogeneous group, extending through about six centuries (A.D. 600 to A.D. 1200), singularly uniform in their development and very local, being unlike any other style known in India. They have besides this a certain classical element, which can hardly be mistaken, and is sufficient in itself to attract the attention of Europeans who are interested in detecting their own familiar forms in this remote valley in the Himalayas.{280}

The earliest of the modern investigators of the subject were Messrs. Moorcroft and Trebeck, who visited the valley in 1819-25.[301] They were both acute and intelligent observers, but, having no special knowledge of the subject, their observations on the architecture of the valley do not add much to our knowledge of its history.

They were followed by G. T. Vigne in 1833, who being an artist drew the buildings with wonderful correctness, so as to bring out the peculiarities of the style, and also to approximate their history with very tolerable exactness.[302] About the same time Baron Hügel gave his impression on the subject to the public, but in a manner much less critical than his predecessors.[303]

In 1848, Captain (now General) A. Cunningham published in the September number of the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society’ an essay on what he called the Aryan order of architecture, but which was wholly devoted to that of Kashmir. It was illustrated by fifteen folding plates, containing plans, elevations, and views, and in fact all that was required for settling the history of the style, and, but for one or two unfortunate mistakes, would have left little to be done by his successors in this field of inquiry.

In 1866, the Rev. W. C. Cowie, Chaplain on duty in Kashmir, published in the same journal an essay on the same subject, as a supplement to General Cunningham’s paper, describing several temples he had not visited, and adding considerably to our knowledge of those he had described. This paper was also extensively illustrated.

In consequence of all this wealth of literature, very little remained to be done, when in 1868 Lieutenant Cole, R.E., obtained an appointment as superintendent of the Archæological Survey of India, and proceeded to Kashmir with a staff quite sufficient to settle all the remaining outstanding questions.[304] Unfortunately, however, Lieutenant Cole had no previous knowledge of Indian antiquities in general, and had not qualified himself by any special study for the investigation he was deputed to undertake. All, therefore, he could do was to adopt blindly General Cunningham’s dates, and in this there would have been no great harm, but, when he came across a temple which had escaped his predecessor’s attention, he arbitrarily interpolated it, with a date of his own, into the General’s series. As all these dates are given as if perfectly ascertained without any of the reasoning on which they are based, they would, if accepted, lead{281} to the most erroneous conclusions. Putting these, however, aside, Lieutenant Cole’s plans and architectural details are a valuable contribution to our knowledge of the subject, and with his photographs and those now available by others, enable those who have not had an opportunity of visiting the valley to form an opinion of their own, and with all these lights there seems little difficulty in ascertaining all the really important facts connected with this style.

The first and most misleading mistake that has been made with reference to Kashmiri architecture, was the assumption by General Cunningham that the enclosure to Zein-ul-ab-ud-dín’s tomb in Srinagar originally belonged to an ancient Kashmiri temple. Lieutenant Cole boldly prints on his plates, “probable date A.D. 400 to 500,” a mistake as nearly as may be of 1000 years, as it is hardly doubtful that it was erected for or by the prince whose name it bears, and who in A.D. 1410 succeeded his father Sikandar, who bore the ill-omened nickname of Butshikan, the idol-breaker. As will be seen from the woodcut (No. 156), it consists of a series of small pointed arches in rectangular frames, such as are very frequently found in Mahomedan art, and the peculiarities of the gateways and other parts are just such as are found in all contemporary Moslem art in India. All the mosques and tombs for instance at Ahmedabad, A.D. 1396-1572, are made up of details borrowed from the architecture of the Jains, and the bases of their minarets and their internal pillars can only be distinguished from those of the heathen by their position, and by the substitution of foliage for human figures in the niches or places where the Hindus would have introduced images of their gods.

156. Tomb of Zein-ul-ab-ud-dín. Elevation of Arches. (From a drawing by Lieut. Cole.)

In this instance there is no incongruity, no borrowed features; every stone was carved for the place where it is found. There are niches it is true on each side of the gateway, like those found at Marttand and other Pagan temples; but like those at Ahmedabad they are without images, and the arch in brick which surmounts this gateway is a radiating arch, which appears certainly to be integral, but, if so, could not possibly be erected by a Hindu.[305] When General Cunningham visited the valley in 1848, he was not so familiar as he has since become with the ruins of Gour, Juanpore, Ahmedabad, and other Moslem cities where the architectural forms adopted by the{282} Moslems are with difficulty distinguished from those of the Hindus. With the knowledge we now possess it is not likely that any one can mistake the fact, that this enclosure was erected by the prince whose name it bears to surround his tomb, in the Mahomedan cemetery of the city in which it is found.

157. Takt-i-Suleiman. Elevation of Arches. (From a drawing by Lieut. Cole.)

Assuming this for the present, it gives us a hint as to the age of the other anomalous building in Kashmir—the temple that crowns the hill, called the Takt-i-Suleiman, near the capital. Inside the octagonal enclosure that surrounds the platform on which the temple stands is a range of arches (Woodcut No. 157), similar to those of the tomb of Zein-ul-ab-ud-dín (Woodcut No. 156), not so distinctly pointed, nor so Saracenic in detail, but still very nearly resembling them, only a little more debased in style. At the bottom of the steps is a round-headed doorway, not it is true surmounted by a true arch, but by a curved lintel of one stone, such as are universal in the Hindu imitations of Mahomedan architecture in the 17th and 18th centuries. The same is the case in the small temples alongside, which are evidently of the same age.[306] The temple too, itself, is far from having an ancient look. The one most like it, that I am acquainted with, is that erected by Cheyt Sing at Rannuggur, near Benares, at the end of the last century. I know of no straight-lined pyramid of a much older date than that, and no temple with a polygonal plan, combined with a circular cell, as is the case here, that is of ancient date. The four pillars in the cell, with the Persian inscriptions upon them, are avowedly of the 17th century. It is suggested, however, that they belong to a repair; my conviction, however, is, from a review of the whole evidence, that the temple, as it now stands, was commenced by some nameless Hindus, in honour of Siva, during the tolerant reign of Jehangir, and that the building was stopped at the date engraved on the staircase, A.H. 1069 (A.D. 1659), the first year of the reign of the bigot Aurungzebe. It was then unfinished, and has consequently remained a ruin ever since, which may give it an ancient look, but not such as to justify any one putting it 1879 years before what seems to be its true date, as is done by General Cunningham and his follower Lieutenant Cole.

If we may thus get rid of these two anomalous and exceptional examples, the history of all the remaining temples in the valley is more than usually homogeneous and easily intelligible. The date of the principal example—the temple at Marttand—is hardly doubtful (A.D. 750); and of the others, some may be slightly older, but none{283} can be carried further back than the reign of Ranaditya, A.D. 578 to 594. Nor can any one be brought down below, say 1200, which is probably the date of that of Payech. Between these dates, with a very little local knowledge, the whole might easily be arranged. Such a classification is, however, by no means necessary at present. The style during these six centuries is so uniform that it may be taken as one, for the purposes of a general history.

Temples.

Before proceeding to speak of the temples themselves, it may add to the clearness of what follows if we first explain what the peculiarities of the styles are. This we are able to do from a small model in stone of a Kashmiri temple (Woodcut No. 158), which was drawn by General Cunningham; such miniature temples being common throughout India, and in all instances exact copies of their larger prototypes.

The temple in this instance is surmounted by four roofs (in the built examples, so far as they are known, there are only two or three), which are obviously copied from the usual wooden roofs common to most buildings in Kashmir, where the upper pyramid covers the central part of the building, and the lower a verandah, separated from the centre either by walls or merely by a range of pillars.[307] In the wooden examples the interval between the two roofs seems to have been left open for light and air; in the stone buildings it is closed with ornaments. Besides this, however, all these roofs are relieved by dormer windows, of a pattern very similar to those found in mediæval buildings in Europe; and the same steep, sloping lines are used also to cover doorways and porches, these being virtually a section of the main roof itself, and evidently a copy of the same wooden construction.

158. Model of Temple in Kashmir.

The pillars which support the porticoes and the one on which the model stands are by far the most striking peculiarity of this style, their shafts being almost identical with those of the Grecian Doric, and unlike anything of the class found in other parts of India.{284} Generally they are from three to four diameters in height, diminishing slightly towards the capital, and adorned with sixteen flutes, rather shallower than those of the Grecian order. Both the bases and capitals are, it is true, far more complicated than would have been tolerated in Greece, but at Pæstum and in Rome we find with the Doric order a complexity of mouldings by no means unlike that found here. These peculiarities are still more evident in the annexed representation of a pillar found in Srinagar (Woodcut No. 159), which is a far more highly ornamented example than the last, but equally classical in its details, and, if anything, more unlike any known examples of true Hindu architecture. Nowhere in Kashmir do we find any trace of the bracket capital of the Hindus, nor of the changes from square to octagon, or to the polygon of sixteen sides, and so on. Now that we are becoming familiar with the extent of classical influence that prevailed in Gandhara (ante, p. 176) down to the 7th or 8th century, we have no difficulty in understanding whence these quasi-Grecian forms were derived, nor why they should be found so prevalent in this valley. It adds, however, very considerably to our interest in the subject to find that the civilization of the West left so strong an impress on the arts of this part of India that its influence can be detected in all the Kashmiri buildings down to the time when the local style perished under Mahomedan influence in the beginning of the 14th century. Although, therefore, there can be no mistake about the principal forms of the architecture of Kashmir being derived from the classical styles of the West, and as little doubt as to the countries through which it was introduced into the valley, it must not be overlooked that the classical influence is fainter and more remote from its source in Kashmir than in Gandhara. Nothing resembling the Corinthian capitals of the Jamalgiri monastery are found in the valley. The classical features in Kashmir are in degree more like those of the Manikyala tope and the very latest examples in the Peshawur valley. The one style, in fact, seems to commence where the other ends, and to carry on the tradition for centuries after it had been lost in the country from which it was introduced.

159. Pillar at Srinagar. (From a drawing by W. Carpenter, Esq.)

The fact, however, of a quasi-Doric order being currently used in the valley from the 8th to the 12th century is one of the many{285} arguments that tend to confirm the theory that the Corinthian order of the Gandhara monasteries is not so ancient as might at first sight appear. At all events, if a Doric order was the style of the Kashmiri valley at so late a date, there is no à priori improbability in a Corinthian order being used at Peshawur in the 5th or 6th century. On the contrary, as both were evidently derived from the same source, it seems most unlikely that there should be any break in the continuity of the tradition. Strange though it may at first sight appear, it seems as if the impulse first given by Bactria three centuries before the Christian Era continued without a break to influence the architecture of that corner of India for twelve centuries after that epoch.

No example of the Doric order has yet been found in Gandhara, but, as both Ionic and Corinthian capitals have been found there, it seems more than probable that the Doric existed there also; but as our knowledge, up to this date, is limited practically to two monasteries out, probably, of a hundred, we ought not to be surprised at any deficiencies in our series that may from time to time become apparent.

There is still one other peculiarity of this style which it is by no means easy to account for. This is the trefoiled arch, which is everywhere prevalent, but which in our present state of knowledge cannot be accounted for by any constructive necessity, nor traced to any foreign style from which it could have been copied. My own impression is, that it is derived from the façades of the chaitya halls of the Buddhists. Referring, for instance, to Woodcut No. 46 or to No. 58,[308] it will be perceived that the outline of the section of the cave at Ajunta, which it represents, is just such a trefoil as is everywhere prevalent in Kashmir; and, as both there and everywhere else in India, architectural decoration is made up of small models of large buildings applied as decorative features wherever required, it is by no means improbable that the trefoiled façade may have been adopted in Kashmir as currently as the simple horse-shoe form was throughout the Buddhist buildings of India Proper. All these features, however, mark a local style differing from anything else in India, pointing certainly to another race and another religion, which we are not as yet able to trace to its source.

Marttand.

By far the finest and most typical example of the Kashmiri style is the temple of Marttand, situated about five miles east of{286} Islamabad, the ancient capital of the valley. It is the architectural lion of Kashmir, and all tourists think it necessary to go into raptures about its beauty and magnificence, comparing it to Palmyra or Thebes, or other wonderful groups of ruins of the old world. Great part, however, of the admiration it excites is due to its situation. It stands well on an elevated plateau, from which a most extensive view is obtained, over a great part of the valley. No tree or house interferes with its solitary grandeur, and its ruins—shaken down apparently by an earthquake—lie scattered as they fell, and are unobscured by vegetation, nor are they vulgarised by any modern accretions. Add to this the mystery that hangs over their origin, and a Western impress on its details unusual in the East, but which calls back the memory of familiar forms and suggests memories that throw a veil of poetry over its history more than sufficient to excite admiration in the most prosaic spectators. When, however, we come to reduce its dimensions to scale (Woodcut No. 160), and to examine its pretensions to rank among the great examples of architectural art, the rhapsodies of which it has been the theme seem a little out of place.

160. Temple of Marttand. (From a drawing by General A. Cunningham.) Scale 100 feet to 1 inch.

The temple itself (Woodcut No. 161) is a very small building, being only 60 ft. in length by 38 ft. in width. The width of the façade, however, is eked out by two wings or adjuncts, which make it 60 ft. As General Cunningham estimates that its height, when complete, was 60 ft. also, it realises the problem the Jews so earnestly set themselves to solve—how to build a temple with the three dimensions equal, but yet should not be a cube. Small, however, as the Jewish temple was, it was more than twice as large as this one. At Jerusalem the temple was 100 cubits, or 150 ft. in length, breadth, and height.[309] At Marttand these dimensions were only 60 ft. But it is one of the points of interest in the Kashmiri temple that it reproduces in plan, at least, the Jewish temple more nearly than any other known building.{287}

The roof of the temple has so entirely disappeared that Baron Hügel doubted if it ever possessed one.[310] General Cunningham, on the other hand, has no doubts on the subject, and restores it in stone on his plate No. 14. The absence, however, of any fragments on the floor of the temple that could have belonged to the roof, militates seriously against this view; and, looking at the tenuity of the walls and the large voids they include, I doubt extremely if they ever could have supported a stone roof of the usual design. When, too, the plan is carefully examined, it will be seen that none of the masses are square; and it is very difficult to see how the roof of the porch could, if in stone, be fitted to that over the cella. Taking all these things into consideration, my impression is, that its roof—it certainly had one—was in wood; and knowing how extensively the Buddhists used wooden roofs for their chaitya halls, I see no improbability of this being the case here at the time this temple was erected.

161. View of Temple at Marttand. (From a Photograph.)

The courtyard that surrounds and encloses this temple is, in its state of ruin, a more remarkable object than the temple itself. Its{288} internal dimensions are 220 ft. by 142 ft.,[311] which are respectable, though not excessive; they are not much more than those of the temple of Neminatha at Girnar (Woodcut No. 126), which are 165 ft. and 105 ft., though that is by no means a large Jaina temple. On each face is a central cell, larger and higher than the colonnade in which it is placed (Woodcut No. 162), but even then only 30 ft. in height to the summit of the roof, supposing it to be completed, and the pillars on each side of it are only 9 ft. high, which are not dimensions to go wild about, though their strongly-impressed Grecian aspect is certainly curious and interesting.

162. Central Cell of Court at Marttand. (From a drawing by General A. Cunningham.) No scale.

One of the most remarkable features of the courtyard, though it is common to all true Kashmiri temples, is thus described by General Cunningham:—“I have a suspicion also that the whole of the interior of the quadrangle was originally filled with water to a level{289} within one foot of the bases of the columns, and that access to the temple was gained by a raised pathway of slabs, supported on solid blocks at short intervals, which connected the gateway flight of steps with that leading to the temple. The same kind of pathway must have stretched right across the quadrangle from one side doorway to the other. Similar pathways still exist in the Shalimar gardens, as passages across the different reservoirs and canals. On the outside of the quadrangle, and close by the northern side of the gateway, there is a drain by which the surplus water found its exit, thus keeping the surface always at the same level. The temples at Pandrethan Ledari, and in the Barahmula Pass, are still standing in the midst of water. A constant supply of fresh water was kept up by a canal or watercourse from the River Lambadari, which was conducted alongside of the mountain for the service of the neighbouring village of Sinharotsika,” &c. “The only object,” the General goes on to remark, “of erecting temples in the midst of water must have been to place them more immediately under the protection of the Nagas, or human-bodied and snake-tailed gods, who were zealously worshipped for ages throughout Kashmir.”[312]

There are no inscriptions on this temple which would enable us to fix its date with certainty, but all authorities are agreed that the enclosure at least was erected by Lalitaditya,[313] who reigned A.D. 725 to 761; and my conviction is that he also erected the temple itself. General Cunningham, however, on the strength of a passage in the ‘Raja Tarangini,’ ascribes the building of the temple to Ranaditya,[314] who reigned A.D. 578 to 594. He may have local information which enables him to identify the village Sinharotsika with this place which he has not given to the public; but even then it is only said he erected a temple to the sun at that place,[315] but nothing to show that it was this temple. Whether also it was dedicated to the sun is not clear. I never saw a sun temple, or a drawing of one, and can,{290} therefore, give no opinion on that head. Be this, therefore, as it may, it seems to me extremely improbable that the temple should have stood naked for 150 years, and then that a far greater king than its founder should have added the indispensable adjunct of a court. If, like all Kashmiri temples, it was intended to stand in the water, something of the sort must have existed from the beginning, and very little have been left for the great Lalitaditya to add. In addition to this, many of the details of the temple itself are so nearly identical with those of the temple at Avantipore, erected A.D. 852 or 853, that it is very much more likely that only 100 instead of 250 years intervened between the dates of the Marttand and Avantipore temples.

The question as to what deity this temple was dedicated to is more difficult to determine than its date. According to the ‘Raja Tarangini,’[316] especially as summarised by Wilson,[317] Lalitaditya was at the same time Buddhist, Jaina, or Vaishnava—three religions that were undistinguishable in that time of tolerance, but which, after 200 years of persecution and wars, came out distinct and antagonistic in the 10th century. If only the plan were submitted to me, I would unhesitatingly declare it Jaina; when its water arrangements were explained, it would as clearly appear Naga[318] (Woodcut No. 163), but not at all necessarily antagonistic to either Buddhism or Vishnuism at that age. As I have just said, I know nothing of sun temples, and cannot, therefore, say whether this resembles them or not.

163. Niche with Naga Figure at Marttand.

(From a Photograph.)

Unfortunately, the stone of which the temple is built is of so friable a nature that the sculptures are now barely recognisable, but, so far as can be made out from such photographs as exist, all the{291} principal figures in the niches have snake-hoods—are Nagas, in fact, with three or five-headed snakes at the backs of their heads. Any one on the spot, with his attention turned to this, could easily determine in a few minutes how far this was the case or not; but no one has yet visited it with the preparation necessary to settle this and many other uncertain points regarding the architecture and mythology of the place. A monograph, however, of this temple would be a work well worthy of any pains that might be bestowed upon it by any Indian archæologist; for, besides its historical and mythological importance, many of its details are of great beauty, and they have never been drawn with the care they so well merit. (Woodcut No. 164.) As the typical example of a quasi-classical style, a perfect knowledge of its peculiarities would be a landmark in the history of the style both before and after its date.

164. Soffit of Arch at Marttand. (From a Sketch by the late Mr. Wilson, B.C.S.)

Avantipore.

Next in importance to Marttand, among Kashmiri temples, are those of Avantipore, all erected certainly within the limits of the reign of Avantiverma, the first king of the Utpala dynasty, and who reigned from A.D. 875 to A.D. 904. The stone with which they are erected is so friable, and the temples themselves are so ruined, that there might be a difficulty in ascertaining to what religion they were dedicated if the ‘Raja Tarangini’ were not so distinct in describing this monarch as a devoted follower of Siva,[319] and naming these temples as dedicated to various forms of that god.

The two principal ruins stand in courtyards of nearly the same size, about 200 ft. by 100 ft. or 170 ft. internally. One, called Avantiswami, has pillars all round, like Marttand, and almost identical in design and dimensions. The other is astylar, but the temple itself was much more important than in the first example.[320]{292}

The characteristic that seems most clearly to distinguish the style of the temples at Marttand from that of those at Avantipore is the greater richness of detail which the latter exhibit; just such a tendency, in fact, towards the more elaborate carvings of the Hindu style as one might expect from their difference in date. Several of these have been given by the three authors to whose works I have so often had occasion to allude, and to which the reader is referred; but the annexed fragment (Woodcut No. 165) of one of its columns is as elegant in itself, and almost as interesting historically, as the Doric of the examples quoted above, inasmuch as if it is compared with the pillars of the tomb of Mycene (Woodcut No. 117, vol. i.) it seems difficult to escape the conviction that the two forms were derived from some common source. At all events, there is nothing between the Peloponnesus and Kashmir, so far as we now know, that so nearly resembles it.

165. Pillar at Avantipore. (From a drawing by Mr. Wilson, C.S.)

Bhaniyar.

At a place near the remote village of Bhaniyar, on the road between Uri and Naoshera, there stands one of the best-preserved temples in the valley. Like all the older temples, it was supplied with the means of keeping its courtyard full of water, and during the long ages of neglect these brought down silt and mud sufficient to half bury the place. It was recently, however, excavated by order of the Raja of Kashmir, and hence its nearly perfect state.[321] Its dimensions are less than those of the temples last described, being only 145 ft. by 120 ft., but, except from natural decay of the stone, it is nearly perfect, and gives a very fair idea of the style of these buildings. The trefoiled arch, with its tall pediment, the detached column and its architrave, are as distinctly shown here as in any other existing example of a Kashmiri colonnade, and present all those quasi-classical features which we now know were inherited from the neighbouring province of Gandhara. The central temple is small, only 26 ft. square, and its roof is now covered with wooden shingles; but whether that was the original covering is not certain. Looking, however, at the central side-cell of the colonnade (Woodcut No. 166), it seems to me extremely doubtful whether General Cunningham is justified in restoring the roof of the temple, or of the central cell at{293} Marttand in stone. My impression rather is, as hinted above, that the temple-roof was in wood; that of the side-cell in stone, but flat.

166. View in Court of Temple at Bhaniyar. (From a Photograph.)

At a place called Waniyat are two groups of temples, which were carefully examined and described by the Rev. Mr. Cowie,[322] and plans and photographs are found in Lieutenant Cole’s book.[323] They differ somewhat from those we have been describing, inasmuch as they do not seem to have been enclosed in colonnaded courts, and consist each of one large and several smaller temples, unsymmetrically arranged. The larger ones are 30 ft. and 32 ft. square in plan over all; the smaller 10 ft. or 12 ft.

There are no inscriptions, nor any historical indications that would enable us to fix the date of the Waniyat temples with certainty, and the stone has decayed to such an extent that the details cannot be defined with the precision necessary for comparison with other examples; but whether this decay arises from time or from the nature of the stone there are no means of knowing. Lieutenant Cole, basing his inferences on certain similarities he detects between them and the temple of the Takt-i-Suleiman, which he believes was erected B.C. 220, ascribes their erection to the first century after Christ. Reasoning from the same basis, if the temple on the Takt belongs to the 17th century, I would infer that they were among the most modern temples in this style in the valley. Besides this, they are purely Hindu temples, without any of those Naga or Jaina peculiarities that distinguish the older ones, and almost certainly, therefore, may be placed after the year A.D. 1000. How much more modern they may be must be left for future inquiry.{294}

Among the remaining examples, perhaps the one that most clearly exhibits the characteristics of the style is that at Pandrethan (Woodcut No. 167). It still stands, as it has always stood, in the centre of its tank; but the overflow drains, which originally served to keep the water at the same level, having become choked by neglect, it can now only be approached by swimming or in a boat. Originally, it seems to have had a third storey or division to its roof, but that has fallen; the lower part of the building, however, exhibits all the characteristic features of the style in as much perfection as almost any other known example.

167. Temple at Pandrethan.

(From a Drawing by General Cunningham.)

One last example must conclude our illustrations of Kashmiri architecture. The temple at Payech, though one of the smallest, is among the most elegant, and also one of the most modern examples of the style (Woodcut No. 168). Its dimensions are only 8 ft. square for the superstructure, and 21 ft. high, including the basement; but with even these dimensions it acquires a certain dignity from being erected with only six stones—four for the walls and two for the roof.[324] It stands by itself on a knoll, without any court, or any of the surroundings of the older temples, and, being dedicated wholly to the gods of the Hindu Pantheon, it certainly belongs to an age when their worship had superseded the older faiths of the valley. It would be interesting if its date could be ascertained, as it carries with it that of the caves of Bhaumajo and of several other temples. So far as can at present be made out, it seems to belong to the 13th century of our era, but is probably of a more modern rather than of a more ancient date.

In order to write a complete monography of the Kashmiri style, we ought to be able to trace it very much further back than anything in the previous pages enables us to do, and by some means{295} to connect it with the other styles of India. In order to do this, however, we must discover some Buddhist remains in Kashmir. We know from history that Asoka, B.C. 250, sent missionaries to convert the inhabitants of the valley to the Buddhist faith, and that in the 1st century Kanishka, a Buddhist king, reigned here absolutely;[325] and we know that in the 7th century Hiouen Thsang found Buddhism, if not the only religion, at least one of the dominant faiths of the people. The details he mentions, and the fact of his lingering here for two whole years (A.D. 633 to A.D. 634) to study its forms and scriptures, proves how important this religion then was.[326] But not one vestige of a chaitya or of a vihara has yet come to light; and though there are mounds which may contain stupas, it is most improbable that they will contain any architectural forms that may be of any use for our purposes.

168. Temple at Payech. (From a Photograph.)

When we know more of the forms and ages of the Gandhara monasteries (ante, pages 169, et seqq.), they may supply some of the missing links required to connect the Kashmiri style to that of the outer world; but till the temples in Salt Range, and other little-frequented parts of the Punjab are examined, we shall not know all that we{296} desire. Meanwhile the annexed woodcut (No. 169), representing a temple at Mûlot, shows how nearly the Punjabi style resembled that of Kashmir. There are the same trefoil-headed openings; the fluted pillars, with quasi-classical bases and capitals; and a general similarity of style not to be mistaken. There is another temple very similar, but smaller, at Kathwai; both are near Pind Dadan Khan, and from what I can learn there are others which may form a connecting link between the Gandhara monasteries and the Kashmiri temples. It may be that Mahomedan bigotry has defaced them all; but, looking at the immense strides that have been made during the last few years in this direction, I feel confident that so soon as they are looked for all that is still wanting will certainly be found.

169. Temple at Mûlot, in the Salt Range. (From a Photograph.)

So many and so various are the points of interest connected with the style of the ancient buildings in Kashmir, that they deserve much fuller illustration than is compatible with the scope of the present work. Though not magnificent, they are very pleasing and appropriate examples of art, and they have this advantage over most of the Indian styles, that Kashmir possesses, in the ‘Raja Tarangini,{297}’ what may be said to be the only Indian history in existence. Any one familiar with that work, and with the actual buildings, could without much difficulty fix their dates, and from the buildings illustrate the history. This has not yet been accomplished, but there is no doubt that it can be done.

Another point of interest connected with this style is the strange but undoubted affinity which exists between it and the architectural forms of ancient Greece. This, when fully investigated, may reveal to us relations between the two countries or their outlying dependencies which are not now suspected.

But the greatest point of interest is that arising out of the connexion which at one time seems to have existed between Kashmir and Cambodia, which will form the subject of a subsequent chapter. Between the two we shall probably be able to gather up the threads of the long-lost form of Serpent superstition, and learn to know what were the arrangements of the temples, and what the worship addressed to that mysterious deity.

I have already, in my work on Tree and Serpent worship, and in the Introduction, entered so fully into this subject, and said all that I have at present to say about it, that I need not do more here than recapitulate the results, but they can hardly be too often repeated in order to render the context intelligible. So far as I can ascertain, the people who adopted Buddhism in India were neither the Aryans nor the Dravidians, but a native aboriginal race in the north, whom the Aryans called Dasyus. Before their conversion they worshipped trees and serpents, and after their adoption of the higher and purer form of worship they continually relapsed to their old faith and old feelings whenever the influence of Buddhism became weak, or its discipline relaxed. This was especially the case in Kashmir, with Taxila, and Gandhara; it was the head-quarters of Naga worship in northern India; and though the inhabitants embraced Buddhism with avidity, there are everywhere signs of their backslidings. In Kashmir the oldest temples, if not exclusively Naga, certainly show an unmistakable tendency in that direction, and continued to do so till the Hindu revival in the 11th century. After that they were dedicated to Siva and Vishnu, and the people of the valley seem to have been completely converted to the Hindu religion, when they fell under the influence of the followers of Mahomet, and adopted the faith of the Arabian Prophet in or about the 14th century.

It is between the fall of Buddhism and the rise of Mahomedanism that all the temples in the true Kashmiri style must be ranged. Before that we have nothing—after that, only the tomb of Zein-ul-ab-ud-dín and the temple on the Takt-i-Suleiman can be classed as examples of the style, though the latter can hardly even claim a title to that affiliation.{298}

## CHAPTER II.
NEPAL.

CONTENTS.

Stupas or Chaityas—Wooden Temples—Thibet—Temples at Kangra.

Any one looking at the map, and the map only, would probably be inclined to fancy that, from their similarity of situation and surroundings, the arts and archæology of Nepal must resemble those of Kashmir. It would not, however, be easy to make a greater mistake, for there are no two provinces of India which are more diametrically opposed to one another in these respects than these two Himalayan states. Partly this is due to local peculiarities. The valley of Nepal proper—in which the three capitals, Patan, Bhatgaon, and Khatmandu, are situated—is only twelve miles north and south, by nine in width east and west. It is true, the bulk of the population of the Gorkha state live in the valleys that surround this central point; but they are sparse and isolated communities, having very little communication with each other. Kashmir, on the other hand, is one of the most beautiful and fertile valleys in the world, measuring more than one hundred miles in one direction and more than seventy in another, without any ridges or interruptions of any sort, and capable of maintaining a large population on one vast, unbroken, fertile plain.

Another point of difference is, that Kashmir never was a thoroughfare. The population who now possess it entered it from the south, and have retained possession of it—in all historical times, at least—in sufficient numbers to keep back any immigration from the north. In Nepal, on the contrary, the bulk of the population are Thibetans, a people from the north, left there apparently in their passage southward; and, so far as we can gather from such histories as exist, the southern races who are found there only entered the valley in the beginning of the 14th century, and never in such numbers as materially to modify the essentially Turanian character of the people.

Nepal also differs from Kashmir from the fact that the Mahomedans never had possession of their valley, and never, consequently, influenced their arts or their religions. The architectural history of{299} the two valleys differs, consequently, in the following particulars:—In Kashmir we have a Buddhist period, superseded in the 8th century by an original quasi-classical style, that lasted till it, in its turn, was supplanted by that of the Moslem in the 15th century. In Nepal we have no succession of styles—no history in fact—for we do not know when any of the three religions was introduced; but what we find is the Vaishnava, Saiva, and Buddhist religions existing side by side at the present day, and flourishing with a rank luxuriance unknown on the plains of Bengal, where probably their exuberance was checked by the example of the Moslems, who, as just remarked, had no influence in the valley.

Owing to all the principal monuments in Nepal being modern—all, certainly, subsequent to the 14th century—and to the people being too poor to indulge in such magnificence as is found on the plains, the buildings of Nepal cannot compare, as architectural objects, with those found in other parts of India. But, on the other hand, the very fact of their being modern gives them an interest of their own, and though it is an exaggeration, it is a characteristic one, when it is said that in Nepal there are more temples than houses, and more idols than men; it is true to such an extent that there is an unlimited field for inquiry, and even if not splendid, the buildings are marvellously picturesque. Judging from photographs and such materials as are available, I have no hesitation in asserting that there are some streets and palaces in Khatmandu and Bhatgaon which are more picturesque, and more striking as architectural compositions, than are to be found in any other cities in India. The style may be called barbarous, and the buildings have the defect of being principally in wood; but their height, their variety of outline, their wealth of carving and richness of colour, are such as are not to be found in Benares or any other city of the plains.

The real point of interest in the architecture of Nepal to the true student of the art lies in its ethnographic meaning. When fully mastered, it presents us with a complete microcosm of India as it was in the 7th century, when Hiouen Thsang visited it—when the Buddhist and Brahmanical religions flourished side by side; and when the distinctive features of the various races were far more marked than they have since become under the powerful solvent of the Mahomedan domination.

From all these causes I believe that if the materials existed, and it were possible to write an exhaustive history of the architecture of the valley of Nepal, it would throw more light on most of the problems that are now perplexing us than that of any other province in India. It only, however, can be done by some one on the spot, and perfectly familiar not only with the Nepalese buildings but with{300} all the phases of the question;[327] but even then its value would be more ethnographic than æsthetic. If this were an ethnographic history of architecture, to which the æsthetic question were subordinate, it would be indispensable that it should be attempted, however incomplete the materials might be; but the contrary being the case, it must suffice here to point out the forms of the architecture, merely indicating the modes in which the various styles are divided among the different races.

Like that of so many other countries of India, the mythic history of Nepal commences with that of the heroes of the ‘Mahabarata,’ but with some more reasons in this case than in most others, for it seems probable that it was through the Himalayas that the Pandus entered India, and certain, at all events, that the poem represents the survivors of the great war returning to their homes, accompanied by their dogs, across these mountains, through the dominion of the Gorkhas, if not actually through the valley of Nepal. The long lists of names, however, that connect these events with modern events, if not purely fabulous, are at least barren of all interest, and no event is recorded between 1300 years B.C. and A.D. 1300 that need arrest attention. What we do gather is, that at some remote period, probably the first century of our era, Buddhism did penetrate into the valley, and, finding it inhabited by a people of Thibetan origin, it was, of course, easily adopted, and has since remained the religion of that section of the population.[328]{301}

There are two accounts of the mode in which the Hindu or Rajput element was introduced into the valley. The favourite one is, that after the sack of Chittore by Ala-u-dîn, in 1306, the conqueror sought the hand of the proud Rajput’s daughter, and to avoid the contamination he and his followers fled and sought refuge in Nepal.[329] Another account represents the Rajas of Mithila and Semrun—descendants of the Surya Vansa kings of Ayodhya—and the Rajputs of Canouge flying in like manner, in 1326, to avoid the tyranny of the Delhi emperors; and that it was these tribes, and not the fugitives from Chittore, who conquered and colonised a part of the valley.[330] Both accounts are probably to some extent true, and they and their followers form the Parbuttya or Hindu element in the population at the present day, and make up the bulk of those who profess the Hindu religion and worship Siva and Vishnu and the other gods of the Hindu Pantheon.

Before they entered the valley, however, it seems to have been occupied by Kiratas, Bhotyas, Newars, and other tribes of impure origin,[331] according to the Hindu idea of purity—in other words, Tartars or Thibetans—and they are those who had early adopted the doctrines of Buddha and still adhere to them. The Newars seem to have been the governing caste till the year 1768, when a weak sovereign having called in the assistance of a neighbouring Gorkha Raja, he seized the kingdom, and his successors still rule in Nepal. They apparently were originally of the Magar tribe,[332] but having mixed with the immigrant Hindus call themselves Rajputs, and have adopted the Hindu religion, though in a form very different from that known in the plains, and differing in a manner we would scarcely be inclined to expect. When the religion of the destroyer was introduced into a country that professed the mild religion of Buddha, it might naturally be supposed that its most savage features would be toned down, so as to meet, to some extent at least, the prejudices of the followers of the religion it was superseding. So far from this being the case in this instance, it is said that when first introducing the religion the Gorkhas propitiated the deity with human sacrifices, till warned in a dream to desist and substitute animals.[333] Besides this, the images of Durga or Kali, though hideous and repulsive enough in the plains, are ten times more so in Nepal; and, in fact, throughout there is an exaggeration of all the most prominent features of the religion, that would lead to the belief that it found a singularly congenial soil in the valley and blossomed with unusual exuberance there. This, in fact, is one of the reasons that lead to the belief that{302} the religion of Siva is a northern Tartar superstition, which, when introduced into India, was softened and modified to suit the milder genius of the people; but among the hill tribes, with northern affinities, it was practised with all the Tantric devil-worshipping peculiarities that characterise its original birthplace. So far, too, as the architecture of the Saiva temples in Nepal is concerned, it seems to indicate that the worship came into the valley from the north, and not from the plains of Bengal. The architecture of the temples of Vishnu, on the contrary, seems evidently to be an offshoot of the art of the plains.

Stupas or Chaityas.

The two oldest and most important Buddhist monuments in the valley of Nepal are those of Swayambunath and Bouddhama:[334] the former, beautifully situated on a gentle eminence about a mile from Khatmandu, the latter at Kasachiel, at some distance off.

{303}

170. Temple of Swayambunath, Nepal. (From a Drawing in the Hodgson Collection.)

No very precise information is to be had about the date of either, but, in their present form at least, they are not the oldest in the valley. According to Brian Hodgson, there are several low, flat, tumuli-like chaityas, with very moderate tees, which are older, and may be of any age; but, as will be seen from the previous woodcut (No. 170), that at Swayambunath is of an irregular clumsy form, and chiefly remarkable for the exaggerated form of its tee. This is, in fact, the most marked characteristic of the modern Thibetan dagoba, which in China is carried frequently to such an extent that the stupa becomes evanescent, and the tee changes into a nine or thirteen storeyed tower. According to Kirkpatrick (p. 151), “this temple is chiefly celebrated for its perpetual fire, the two principal wicks having preserved their flames from time immemorial.” The continual presence of the fire-altar, in connexion with statues of Buddha in Gandhara, would lead us to suspect a connexion between fire-worship and Buddhism in that province, but hardly so intimate as this would seem to indicate.

171. Nepalese Kosthakar. No scale.

In Mr. Hodgson’s collection there are nearly one hundred drawings of chaityas in Nepal, all different, most of them small, and generally highly ornamented; but none of them grand, and none exhibiting that elegance of form or beauty of detail which characterises the buildings of the plains. From a low, flat mound, one-tenth of its diameter in height, they rise to such a tall building as this, which is a common form, bearing the name of Kosthakar (Woodcut No. 171), in which the dagoba is only the crowning ornament, and between these there is every conceivable variety of shape and detail. Among others, there is the four-faced lingam of Siva, with a corresponding emblem with four Buddhas; and altogether such a confusion of the two{304}

172. Devi Bhowani Temple, Bhatgaon. (From a Photograph.)

religions as to confirm the idea hinted at above, that the lingam is really a diminutive dagoba, and not the emblem it is usually{305} supposed to represent, though, no doubt, in modern times understood to have that meaning.

By far the most characteristic and beautiful temples of the Nepalese are those possessing many storeys divided with sloping roofs. They are unlike anything found in Bengal, and all their affinities seem with those in Burmah or China. Usually, they seem to be dedicated to the Saiva faith, but Mr. Hodgson mentions one at Patan, where “Sakya occupies the basal floor, Amitabha the second storey, a small stone chaitya the third, the Dharmadatu Mandala the fourth; the fifth, or apex of the building, externally consisting of a small churamani, or jewel-headed chaitya.”

One of the most elegant of this class is the Bhowani temple at Bhatgaon, represented in the previous woodcut (No. 172). It is five storeys in height, but stands particularly well on a pyramid of five steps, which gives it a greater dignity than many of its congeners. Another, dedicated to Mahadeo, is seen in the centre of the next woodcut (No. 173). It is only two storeys in height, but has the same characteristic form of roof, which is nearly universal in all buildings, civil or ecclesiastical, which have any pretension to architectural design. The temple on the left of the last cut is dedicated to Krishna, and will be easily recognised by any one familiar with the architecture of the plains from its sikra or spire, with the curvilinear outline, and its clustering pavilions, not arranged quite like the ordinary types, but still so as to be unmistakably Bengali.

One other example must complete our illustration of the architecture of Nepal. It is a doorway leading to the durbar at Bhatgaon, and is a singularly characteristic specimen of the style, but partaking much more of China than of India in the style of its ornaments (Woodcut No. 174, p. 307). It is indeed so like an archway in the Nankau Pass, near Pekin—given further on—that I was at first inclined to ascribe them to the same age. The Chinese example, however, is dated in 1345;[335] this one, according to Mr. Hodgson, was erected as late as 1725, yet their ornamentation is the same. In the centre is Garuda, with a seven-headed snake-hood; and on either hand are Nagas, with seven-headed hoods also; and the general character of the foliaged ornaments is so similar that it is difficult to believe in so great a lapse of time between them; but I dare not question Mr. Hodgson’s evidence. Since he was in Nepal the building on the left-hand side of the cut has been “improved.” His drawings show it to have been one of the most picturesque buildings in the valley. It certainly is not so now.

It may be remembered that in speaking of the architecture of Canara (ante, p. 272), I remarked on the similarity that existed{306}

173. Temple of Mahadeo and Krishna, Patan. (From a Photograph.)

between that of that remote province and the style that is found in this Himalayan valley; and I do not think that any one can look at the illustrations quoted above, especially Woodcuts Nos. 150 and 153, and not perceive the similarity between them and the Nepalese examples, though it might require a familiarity with all the photo{307}graphs

174. Doorway of Durbar, Bhatgaon. (From a Photograph.)

to make it evident, without its being pointed out. This being the case, it is curious to find Colonel Kirkpatrick stating, more{308} than seventy years ago, that “it is remarkable enough that the Newar women, like those among the Nairs, may, in fact, have as many husbands as they please, being at liberty to divorce them continually on the slightest pretence.”[336] Dr. Buchanan Hamilton also remarks that “though a small portion of the Newars have forsaken the doctrine of Buddha and adopted the worship of Siva, it is without changing their manners, which are chiefly remarkable for their extraordinary carelessness about the conduct of their women;” and he elsewhere remarks on their promiscuousness and licentiousness.[337] In fact, there are no two tribes in India, except the Nairs and Newars, who are known to have the same strange notions as to female chastity, and that, coupled with the architecture and other peculiarities, seems to point to a similarity of race which is both curious and interesting; but how and when the connexion took place I must leave it to others to determine. I do not think there is anything in the likeness of the names, but I do place faith in the similarity of their architecture combined with that of their manners and customs.

Wooden Temples.

In the Himalayan districts between Kashmir and Nepal, in Kulû, Kangra, and Kumaon, there are a vast number of temples, regarding which it would be extremely interesting to have more information than we now possess. They are all in wood, generally Deodar pine, and, like most buildings in that material, more fantastic in shape, but at the same time more picturesque and more richly carved than buildings in more permanent and more intractable materials. What we now know of them, however, is mainly derived from photographs, taken without any system, only as pictures, because the buildings were either picturesque in themselves or so situated as to improve the landscape. No one yet has thought of measuring them, nor of asking to what divinities they are dedicated, and still less of inquiring into their age or traditions; and till this is done it is impossible to treat of them in anything like a satisfactory manner.

Whenever this chapter of Indian architectural history comes to be written, it will form a curious pendant to that of the wooden architecture of Sweden and Norway, the similarities between the two groups being both striking and instructive. It can hardly be expected that any ethnographical or political connexion can be traced between peoples so remote from one another which could influence their architectural forms; but it is curious, if this is so, to observe how people come independently to adopt the same forms and similar{309} modes of decoration when using the same materials for like purposes, and under similar climatic influences. Although it may, consequently, be impossible to trace any influence that the people of the Himalayas could have exerted on the peoples of the north-west of Europe, it is by no means clear that in these wooden structures we may not find the germ of much that is now perplexing us with regard to the earlier forms of Hindu stone architecture. Like Buddhist architecture, there can hardly be a doubt that much of it was derived from wooden originals, and it is difficult to see any locality where wooden styles were likely to be earlier adopted and longer practised than in those valleys where the Deodar pine is abundant, and forms so excellent and so lasting a building material.

175. Monoliths at Dimapur.
(From a Drawing by Major Godwin Austen.)

An exploration of these valleys, would, no doubt, bring to light many curious monuments, which would not only be interesting in themselves, but might throw considerable light on many now obscure points of our inquiries. One monument, for instance, has recently been discovered by Major Godwin Austen near the foot of the Naga hills in Assam, which is unlike any other known to exist anywhere else.[338] The temple—if temple it may be called—consists of a long corridor, about 250 ft. in length and 21 ft. wide, the roof of which was supported by pillars richly carved, spaced 15 ft. to 21 ft. apart; but its most remarkable features are two rows—one of sixteen, the other of seventeen monoliths—standing in front of this. The tallest is 15 ft., the smallest 8 ft. 5 in., the general range being {310}from 12 to 13 ft. in height, and 18 ft. to 20 ft. in circumference. No two are exactly alike, though all have a general similarity of design to those represented in the preceding woodcut (No. 175), which may be considered as typical of the style. Another similar monolith was found a small distance off, measuring 16 ft. 8 in. in height, and 23 ft. in circumference.

The natives were quite unable to give any account of these curious monuments, nor is it easy to guess why they were placed where they are. So far as I know, no similar monument exists anywhere, for the pillars seem perfectly useless, though attached to two rows of stones that may have borne a roof; otherwise they look like those rows of rude stone monuments which we are familiar with in this country and in Brittany, but which a more artistic people may have adorned with rude carvings, instead of leaving them quite plain, as our forefathers did. As for their carving, the only things the least like them, so far as I know, in India, are the pillars in the temple at Moodbidri (Woodcut No. 152), and in other places in Canara, but there the pillars are actual supports of roofs; these are round-headed, and evidently never were intended for any utilitarian purpose.

Judging from the gateway and other remains of the town of Dimapur, in which these pillars are found, they cannot be of any great age. The gateway is of the Gaur type, with a pointed arch, probably of the 16th or 17th century; and, if Major Austen’s observation is correct, that the sandstone of which they are composed is of a friable and perishable nature, they cannot be of any remote antiquity.

It would be very interesting if a few more similar monuments could be found, and Assam is one of the most promising fields in India for such discoveries. When Hiouen Thsang visited it, in the 7th century, it was known as the kingdom of Kamrup, one of the three principal states of Northern India, and continued populous and important till the Pathan sovereigns of Delhi attempted its conquest in the 15th century. Owing to the physical difficulties of the country, they never were able to succeed in this attempt; but they blockaded the country for many years, and, cut off from the rest of the world, the savage hill tribes on either hand, aided by famine, so depopulated the country that the jungle overpowered the feeble remnant that survived, and one of the richest valleys in the world is now one of the most sparsely inhabited. A good and liberal government might, in a few years, go far to remedy this state of affairs, and, if so blessed, the jungle might again be cleared and rendered fit for human population. When this is done there can be no doubt but that the remains of many ancient cities will be found. Already Captain Dalton has given an account of the ruins of Gohati, which was almost certainly the ancient capital of the province. “Its former importance,” the Commissioner says, “is well attested by the immense{311} extent of its fortifications, and the profusion of carved stones which every excavation of the modern town brings to light. The remains of stone gateways and old stone bridges are found both within and without the old city walls.”[339] Captain Hannay gives a view of one of these bridges. Like all the rest, it is constructed without arches, on the horizontal principle,[340] but it may be as old as the time of the Chinese Pilgrims. Besides these, other ruins have been found and described, in more or less detail, in the pages of the ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal.’ When more fully known they will certainly be of considerable historic and ethnographic value, though they hardly can compare with the vast monuments of such provinces as Orissa or Gujerat, and other parts of India Proper.

Thibet.

It would be extremely interesting if, before leaving this part of the world, it were possible to compile anything like a satisfactory account of the Buddhist style in Thibet, for it is there that Buddhism exists in its greatest purity at the present moment, and there only is it entirely and essentially a part of the system of the people. We would gladly, therefore, compare the existing state of things in Thibet with our accounts of India in the days of the supremacy of the same religion. The jealousy of the Chinese, however, who are now supreme over that nation of priests, prevents free access to the country, and those who have penetrated beyond its forbidden barriers have either done so in the disguise of mendicants, and, consequently, dared neither to draw nor examine minutely what they saw, or else had little taste for portraying what was unintelligible, and, consequently, of very little interest to them.[341]

So far as can be made out from such narratives as we have, there does not seem to be in Thibet a single relic-shrine remarkable either for sanctity or size, nor does relic-worship seem to be expressed either in their architecture or their religious forms. But as no country in the world possesses a larger body of priests in proportion to its population, and as all these are vowed to celibacy and live together, their monasteries are more extensive than any we know of elsewhere—some containing 2000 or 3000 lamas, some, if we may trust M. Huc, as many as 15,000.[342] The monasteries do not seem to be built with{312} any regularity, or to be grouped into combinations of any architectural pretension, but to consist of long streets of cells, mostly surrounding small courtyards, three or four on each side, and sometimes two or even three storeys high; generally, perhaps always, with a small shrine or altar in the centre. The monastery of Bouddha La, outside the city of Lassa, where the Delai Lama resides, seems to be of more magnificence than all the rest—the centre being occupied by a building four storeys high, crowned by a dome (making the fifth) covered entirely with sheets of gold (rather, perhaps, merely gilt), and surrounded by a peristyle of columns, which are gilt also. Around this central palace are grouped a number of smaller ones, where the inferior members of this great ecclesiastical order reside; but of all this it is difficult to form a distinct idea without some better drawings than the native ones, which are at present alone available.

The Delai Lama, who resides in this palace, is believed by the Thibetans to be the living incarnation of the Deity, and, in consequence, is the principal, if not the only, object of worship in Lassa. There are, however, four or five subordinate incarnations in different parts of Thibet and Mongolia, who, though inferior to this one, are still objects of worship in the places where they reside, and by particular sects of Buddhists.

It is this worship of a living rather than of a dead deity that seems to be the principal cause of the difference of the architectural forms of India and Thibet. In the countries we have hitherto been describing no actual incarnation of the Deity is believed to have taken place since the death of Sakya Muni, though the spirit of God has descended on many saints and holy men; in India, therefore, they have been content to worship images of the departed deity, or relics which recall His presence. In Thibet, where their deity is still present among them, continually transmigrating, but never dying, of course such a form of worship would be absurd; no relic of a still living god can exist, nor is the semblance or the memory of any past manifestation thought worth preserving. A priori, therefore, we should scarcely look here for the same class of sacred edifices as we find in India or Ceylon.

Owing to the jealousy with which the country is guarded against the intrusion of Europeans, we may probably have to wait some time before Thibet itself, or even the valleys dependent upon it in the Himalayas, are so accessible to European travellers as to enable them to supply the data requisite for the purpose. In the meanwhile, however, the view (Woodcut No. 176) of the doorway of the temple at Tassiding is curious as showing a perseverance in the employment of sloping jambs, which we do not meet with in the plains. It will be recollected that this feature is nearly universal in the Behar and early western caves (Woodcuts{313} Nos. 43, 45, and 50), but there we lose it. It may have continued to be commonly employed during the Middle Ages, though the examples have perished; but it is curious to find it cropping up here again after a lapse of 2000 years.[343]

176. Doorway of the Temple at Tassiding. (From Dr. Hooker’s ‘Himalayan Journals.’)

Another view in the porch of the temple at Pemiongchi is also interesting, as showing the form of roof which we are familiar with in the rock examples, and also as illustrating the extent to which the bracket capital of India may be carried under the influence of wooden architecture (Woodcut No. 177). It hardly seems doubtful that the idea was originally derived from wooden construction, but was equally appropriate to masonic forms, and is used in masonry so judiciously by Indian architects that we lose sight of its origin in most instances altogether.

Interesting as these minor styles undoubtedly are from their variety, and valuable though they may be for the hints they afford us in understanding the history of the other styles, they never can be so important as the greater architectural groups that are found on the plains of India itself. A monograph of the styles of Kashmir or Nepal, or of the intermediate valleys, would be an invaluable addition to our knowledge; but hardly more is required in a general history than that their places should be indicated, and their general charac{314}teristics so defined as to render them recognisable. Even these minor styles, however, will become more intelligible when studied in connexion with the Dravidian and northern styles, which are those it is next proposed to define and describe.

177. Porch of the Temple at Pemiongchi. (From Hooker.)

Temples at Kangra.

Though a little out of their place in the series, there are two small {315}temples in one of the Himalayan valleys which it may be expedient to describe here before leaving this part of the subject, as their peculiarities will assist us in understanding much that has just been said, or that will be presently advanced. Besides this, they do not exactly fit into any other series, but they can hardly be passed over, as they possess what is so rare in Indian temples—a well-ascertained date.

The temples are situated in the village of Kiragrama, not far from Kote Kangra, and, as an inscription on them records, were built by two brothers, Baijnath and Siddhnath, in the year 804 A.D.[344] Neither of them are large. The larger has a porch 20 ft. square inside by 28 ft. (not 48 ft.) over all externally, and the whole length of the temple, from front to rear, is 50 ft. The smaller one is only 33 ft. over all, including the sanctuary. In 1786, the large temple underwent a thorough repair at the hands of a Raja Sinsarchand, which has obliterated many of its features; but it is easy to see at a glance what was done in the beginning of the 9th century, and what 1000 years afterwards. The small temple, though ruinous, is more interesting, because it has escaped the hand of the spoiler. As will be seen from the woodcut (No. 178), it has all the features of a very old temple—great simplicity of outline, no repetitions of itself, and the whole surface of the upper part covered with that peculiar horseshoe diaper which was so fashionable in those early days. It looks here as if it must be copied from some brick or terra-cotta construction; otherwise its repetition over a whole surface seems unaccountable. The amalaka stringcourses are subdued and in good taste, and the crowning ornament well proportioned.[345]

There is little doubt that the sikra of the larger temple was similarly adorned, but all its details are so completely obliterated by the coating of plaster it has received that it has lost its interest. The pillars, however, of its porch retain their forms up to their capitals, at least. The architraves, as may be seen from the woodcut, belong to the repair in 1786. The shafts of the pillars are plain cylinders, of very classical proportions, and the bases also show that they are only slightly removed from classical design. The square plinth, the two toruses, the cavetto, or hollow moulding between, are all classical, but partially hidden by Hindu ornamentation, of great elegance, but unlike anything found afterwards. The capitals are, however, the most interesting parts, though their details are considerably obliterated by whitewash. They belong to what may be styled the Hindu-Corinthian order, though the principles on which{316}

178. Temples at Kiragrama, near Kote Kangra. (From a Photograph.)

they are designed is diametrically opposed to those of the classical order of the same name. The object of both—as is well-known—is to convert a circular shaft into a square architrave-bearing capital{317} in a graceful and pleasing manner. We all know the manner in which the Ionic and Corinthian capitals effect this; pleasingly, it is true, but not without effort and some little clumsiness, which it required all the skill and taste of classical architects to conquer. To effect this object, the Hindus placed a vase on the top of their column, the bowl of which was about the same diameter as that of the pillar on which it was placed, or rather larger; but such an arrangement was weak, because the neck and base of the vase were necessarily smaller than the shaft of the pillar, and both were still circular. To remedy these defects, they designed a very beautiful class of foliaged ornament, which appears to grow out of the vase, on each of its four faces, and, falling downwards, strengthens the hollows of the neck and leg of the vase, so as to give them all the strength they require, and at the same time to convert the circular form of the shaft into the required square for the abacus of the capital. The Hindus, of course, never had sufficient ability or constructive skill to enable them to produce so perfect a form as the Corinthian or Ionic capitals of the Greeks or Romans; but it is probable that if this form were taken up at the present day, a capital as beautiful as either of these might even now be produced. It is, indeed, almost the only suggestion that Indian architecture seems to offer for European use.

179. Pillar at Erun of the Gupta age. | 180. Capital of Half Column from a temple in Orissa. (From a Lithograph.)

It is by no means clear when this form of capital was first introduced. It first appears, but timidly it must be confessed, in such late Buddhist caves as were excavated after the beginning of the 5th century:—as, for instance, in the Yadnya Sri cave at Nassick{318} (Woodcut No. 81); in the courtyard of the Viswakarma, at Ellora (Woodcut No. 63); and in some of the later caves at Ajunta—the twenty-fourth for instance. It is found at Erun (Woodcut No. 179), among some fragments that I believe to be of the age of the Guptas, about A.D. 400, and it is currently employed in the middle group of Hindu caves at Ellora, such as the Ashes of Ravana, and other caves of that age, say about A.D. 600. It afterwards became frequent, almost universal, with the Jains, down to the time of the Mahomedan conquest. The preceding representation of one (Woodcut No. 180), from a half column of a temple in Orissa, shows it in a skeleton form, and therefore more suited to explain its construction than a fuller capital would do. On its introduction, the bell-shaped or Persepolitan capital seems to have gone out of fashion, and does not again appear in Indian art.

To return from this digression: there can be no doubt that the temple of Baijnath is dedicated to Siva, not only from the presence of the bulls in front of it, in pavilions of the same architecture as the porch, but also because Ganesa appears among its integral sculptures; yet, strange to say, the back niche, is occupied by a statue of Mahavira, the last Jaina Tirthankar, with a perfectly legible inscription, dated in A.D. 1240.[346] It looks as if the age of toleration had not passed even them.{319}

## BOOK IV.
DRAVIDIAN STYLE.

## CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.

The limits within which the Dravidian style of architecture prevailed in India are not difficult to define or understand. Practically they are those of the Madras Presidency, or, to speak more correctly, they are identical with the spread of the people speaking Tamil, or any of the cognate tongues. Dr. Caldwell, in his ‘Grammar,’ estimates these at forty-five or forty-six millions,[347] but he includes among them a number of tribes, such as the Tudas and Gonds, who, it is true, speak dialects closely allied to the Tamil tongues, but who may have learnt them from the superior races, in the same manner that all the nations of the south-west of Europe learnt to speak Latin from the Romans; or as the Cornish men have adopted English, and the Irish and northern Scots are substituting that tongue for their native Gaelic dialects. Unless we know their history, language is only a poor test of race, and in this instance architecture does not come to our aid. It may do so hereafter, but in so far as we at present know, these tribes are in too rude a state to have any architecture of their own in a sufficiently advanced state for our purposes. Putting them aside, therefore, for the present, we still have, according to the last census, some thirty millions of people speaking Tamil, Telugu, Canarese, and Malayalam, whom we have no reason for doubting are practically of the same race, and who, in so far as they are Hindus—not Jains, but followers of Siva and Vishnu—practise one style of architecture, and that known as the Dravidian. On the east coast the boundaries of the style extend as far north as the mouth of the Kistnah, and it penetrates sporadically and irregularly into the Nizam’s territories, but we cannot yet say to what extent, nor within what limits.{320}

On the west coast its natural boundary northwards is the Kistnah, but it did at one time (A.D. 700?) reach as far as Ellora, in latitude 20°; but it seems to have been a spasmodic effort, and it took no permanent root there, while the reflex wave brought the northern styles into the Mysore or other southern countries, where their presence was as little to be expected as that of the Dravidian so far north.

Although considerable progress has lately been made in the right direction, no satisfactory solution has yet been arrived at of the problem of the origin of the Dravidians. The usual theory is that, coming from the westward, they crossed the Lower Indus, passed through Scinde and Gujerat, and, keeping to the right, sought the localities in which we now find them; or rather, that they were pushed into that corner, first by the Aryans, who almost certainly crossed the Upper Indus, and passed through the Punjab into the valley of the Ganges, and afterwards by the Rajputs, who followed nearly in their footsteps.

In favour of this view is the fact first pointed out by Dr. Caldwell,[348] that the Brahuis in Belochistan speak a Dravidian tongue, and may consequently be considered as a fragment of the race dropped there in transitu. But against this view it may be urged that between the Brahuis and the northern Tamils we have a tract of civilized country extending over 1000 miles in which we have no evidence of the passage of the Dravidians, and where it is nearly certain, if it were a national migration, we should find their traces.

So far as history is concerned, in such glimmerings of tradition as we possess, they certainly do not favour this view of matters. Not only to they fail to afford us any trace of such a migration or conquest, but at the earliest time at which we find any mention of them the most civilized and important of their communities occupied the extreme southern point of the peninsula.[349] North of them all was forest, but between the Christian Era and the Mahomedan invasion we find the jungle gradually disappearing, and the southern races pushing northwards, till, in the 14th century, they were checked and driven back by the Moslems. But for their interference it looks as if, at that time, the Dravidians might eventually have driven the Aryans through the Himalayas back to their original seats, as the Maharattas, who are half Dravidians, nearly did at a subsequent period.

If any clear or direct relationship could be discovered between{321} the Tamil and the Median or Accadian languages of Turanian origin, which the decipherment of arrow-headed inscriptions is revealing to us, it might help a good deal in explaining the original introduction of the Dravidians into India, and the numerous Assyrianisms that exist in the mythology and architecture of southern India. Till, however, more progress is made in that direction, it seems it would be more expedient for the present to assume that the Tamil-speaking races are practically aboriginal, and that the evidences of connexion between them and Babylonia are due to continued and close commercial intercourse between the Persian Gulf and the Malabar coast. That such did exist from very remote ages we may feel certain, and its extent seems such as to justify and explain any similarities that are now found existing in southern India.

Be all this as it may, as far back as their traditions reach, we find the Dravida Desa, or southern part of India, divided into three kingdoms or states, the Pandyas, the Cholas, and the Cheras, forming a little triarchy of powers, neither interfered with by the other nations of the earth, nor interfering with those beyond their limits. During the greater part of their existence all their relations of war and peace have been among themselves, and they have grown up a separate people, as unlike the rest of the world as can well be conceived.

Of the three, the most southern was called the Pandyan kingdom; it was the earliest civilized, and seems to have attained sufficient importance about the time of the Christian Era to have attracted the special attention of the Greek and Roman geographers. How much earlier it became a state, or had a regular succession of rulers, we know not,[350] but it seems certainly to have attained to some consistency as early as five or six centuries before the Christian Era, and maintained itself within its original boundaries till in the middle of the last century, when it was swallowed up in our all-devouring aggression.

During this long period the Pandyas had several epochs of great brilliancy and power, followed by long intervening periods of depression and obscurity. The 1st century, and afterwards the 5th or 6th, seem to have been those in which they especially distinguished themselves. If buildings of either of these epochs still exist, which is by no means improbable, they are utterly unknown to us as yet, nor have we any knowledge of buildings of the intervening periods down to the reign of Tirumulla Nayak, A.D. 1624. This{322} prince adorned the capital city of Mádura with many splendid edifices, some of which have been drawn by Daniell and others. What more ancient remains there may be will not be known till the place has been carefully and scientifically explored.

The Chola kingdom extended northwards from the valley of the Cauvery and Coleroon rivers, whose banks seem always to have been its principal seat, nearly to Madras, all along the eastern coast, called after them Cholomandalam or Coromandel. The date of the origin of their kingdom is not known, but their political relations with Kashmir can be traced as early as the 6th century, and probably earlier.[351] Their epoch of greatest glory, however, was between the 10th and 12th centuries, when they seem to have conquered not only their neighbours the Pandyas and Cheras, but even to have surpassed the bounds of the triarchy, and carried their arms into Ceylon, and to have maintained an equal struggle with the Chalukyas in the north. After this period they had no great revival like that of the Pandyas under Tirumulla Nayak, but sank step by step under the Mahomedans, Mahrattas, and English, to their present state of utter political annihilation.

The Cheras occupied the country northward of the kingdom of Pandya, and westward of Chola, including a considerable part of what is now known as Mysore. Their rise according to their own annals took place nearly at the time of the Christian Era, but this most probably is an exaggeration; but there are inscriptions which prove that they were powerful in the 4th and 5th centuries. From this time they seem gradually to have extended their conquest northwards. Their sixteenth king boasts of having conquered Andhra and Kalinga,[352] and their twentieth king, Kongani Raya III., boasts of having conquered Chola, Pandya, Dravida, Andhra, Kalinga, Varada, and Maharastra desas as far as the Nerbudda river.[353] According to the dates in the Kongadesa Rajakal, this must have taken place in the 7th century, but from what we know of history, it could not have taken place till after the overthrow of the Chalukyan dynasty, and consequently hardly before 750. That a southern conquest did take place about that time seems almost certain from the eclipse of the Chalukyas between 750 and 1000,[354] and from the excavation of the Kylas and other temples of Dravidian architecture at Ellora about that time, and there seems no race but the Cheras who could have effected this.

Vira Chola (A.D. 927-977) seems first to have checked their victorious career, and Ari Vara Deva, another Chola king (1004), to have completed their destruction. He also boasts of having carried his{323} victorious standard to the Nerbudda, and to have been a benefactor to Chillambaram, the then famed temple of his race.

This was the last great effort of the early triarchy; after this the rise of the Bellalas in Mysore, and the revival of the Chalukyas in central India, seem to have checked them to such an extent, that they never regained a perfect independence, though at times wealthy and powerful and capable of embarking in the most splendid architectural undertakings.[355]

Although, politically, these three states always remained distinct, and generally antagonistic, the people belonged to the same race. Their architecture is different from any other found in India, but united in itself, and has gone through a process of gradual change from the earliest times at which we become acquainted with it, until we lose sight of it altogether in the last century. This change is invariably for the worse, the earlier specimens being in all instances the most perfect, and the degree of degradation forming, as mentioned above, a tolerably exact chronometric scale, by which we may measure the age of the buildings.

Buddhism, as before hinted, does not seem to have ever gained a footing of much importance among any of the Dravidian races of India, and as early as the 7th century the few votaries of Buddha that existed in the south of India were finally expelled.[356] So completely was it extirpated that I do not know of one single Buddhist monument south of the Kistnah, except the tope at Amravati described above, and am inclined very much to doubt if any really important ones ever existed.

The Jaina religion, on the contrary, continued to nourish at Conjeveram and in the Mysore, and seems to have succeeded Buddhism in these places, and to have attracted to itself whatever tendency there may have been towards the doctrines of Buddhism on the part of the southern people. Though influential from their intelligence, the Jains never formed more than a small numerical fraction of the people among whom they were located.

The Hindu religion, which thus became supreme, is now commonly designated the Brahmanical, in order to distinguish it from the earlier Vedic religion, which, however, never seems to have been known in the south. The two sects into which it is divided consist of the worshippers of Siva and of Vishnu, and are now quite distinct and almost antagonistic; but both are now so overloaded with absurd fables and monstrous superstitions, that it is very difficult to ascertain{324} what they really are or ever were. Nor are we yet in a position to speak confidently of their origin.

Recent discoveries in Assyria seem, however, to point to that country as the origin of much that we find underlying the local colouring of the Vaishnava faith. Garuda, the eagle-headed Vahana, and companion of Vishnu, seems identical with the figure now so familiar to us in Assyrian sculpture, probably representing Ormazd. The fish-god of the Assyrians, Dagon, prefigures the “Fish-Avatar,” or incarnation of Vishnu. The man-lion is not more familiar to us in Assyria than in India, and tradition generally points to the West for the other figures scarcely so easily recognised—more especially Bali, whose name alone is an index to his origin; and Maha Assura, who, by a singular inversion, is a man with a bull’s head,[357] instead of a bull with a man’s head, as he is always figured in his native land. It is worthy of remark that the ninth Avatar of Vishnu is always Buddha himself, thus pointing to a connexion between these two extremes of Indian faith; and we are told by inscriptions of the 14th century that there was then no appreciable difference between the Jains and Vaishnavas.[358] Indeed, as pointed out in the introduction, it seems impossible to avoid considering these three faiths as three stages of one superstition of a native race—Buddhism being the oldest and purest; Jainism a faith of similar origin, but overlaid with local superstitions; and Vishnuism a third form, suited to the capacity of the natives of India in modern times, and to compete with the fashionable worship of Siva.

Both these religions have borrowed an immense amount of nomenclature from the more abstract religions of the Aryan races, and both profess to venerate the Vedas and other scriptures in the Sanscrit language. Indeed it is all but impossible that the intellectual superiority of that race should not make itself felt on the inferior tribes, but it is most important always to bear in mind that the Sanscrit-speaking Aryan was a stranger in India. It cannot indeed be too often repeated that all that is intellectually great in that country—all, indeed, which is written—belongs to them; but all that is built—all, indeed, which is artistic—belongs to other races, who were either aboriginal or immigrated into India at earlier or subsequent periods, and from other sources than those which supplied the Aryan stock.

There does not seem to be any essential difference either in plan or form between the Saiva and Vaishnava temples in the south of India. It is only by observing the images or emblems worshipped, or by{325} reading the stories represented in the numerous sculptures with which a temple is adorned, that we find out the god to whom it is dedicated. Whoever he may be, the temples consist almost invariably of the four following parts, arranged in various manners, as afterwards to be explained, but differing in themselves only according to the age in which they were executed:—

1. The principal part, the actual temple itself, is called the Vimana. It is always square in plan, and surmounted by a pyramidal roof of one or more storeys; it contains the cell in which the image of the god or his emblem is placed.

2. The porches or Mantapas, which always cover and precede the door leading to the cell.

3. Gate pyramids, Gopuras, which are the principal features in the quadrangular enclosures which always surround the Vimanas.

4. Pillared halls or Choultries, used for various purposes, and which are the invariable accompaniments of these temples.

Besides these, a temple always contains tanks or wells for water—to be used either for sacred purposes or the convenience of the priests,—- dwellings for all the various grades of the priesthood attached to it, and numerous other buildings designed for state or convenience.{326}

## CHAPTER II.
DRAVIDIAN ROCK-CUT TEMPLES.

CONTENTS.

Mahavellipore—Kylas, Ellora.

Although it may not be possible to point out the origin of the Dravidian style, and trace its early history with the same precision as we can that of Buddhist architecture, there is nothing so mysterious about it, as there is regarding the styles of northern India, nor does it burst on us full blown at once as is the case with the architecture of the Chalukyas. Hitherto, the great difficulty in the case has been, that all the temples of southern India have been found to be of so modern a date. The great building age there was the 16th and 17th centuries of our era. Some structural buildings, it is true, could be traced back to the 12th or 13th with certainty, but beyond that all was to a great extent conjecture; and if it were not for rock-cut examples, we could hardly go back much further with anything like certainty. Recent investigations, however, combined with improved knowledge and greater familiarity with the subject, have now altered this state of affairs to a great extent. It seems hardly doubtful now that the Kylas at Ellora, and the great temples at Purudkul (Pattadkul), are anterior to the 10th century.[359] It may, in fact, be that they date from the 8th or 9th, and if I am not very much mistaken the “raths,” as they are called, at Mahavellipore are as early, if not indeed earlier, than the 5th or 6th, and are in reality the oldest examples of their class known, and the prototypes of the style.

One circumstance which has prevented the age of the Mahavellipore raths being before detected is, that being all cut in granite and in single blocks, they show no sign of wearing or decay, which is so frequently a test of age in structural buildings, and being all in the same material produces a family likeness among them, which makes it at first sight difficult to discriminate between what is old and what new. More than this, they all possess the curious peculiarity of being unfinished, whether standing free, as the raths, or cut in the rock, as caves, or on its face, as the great bas-relief; they are all left with one-third or one-fourth merely blocked out, and in some instances with{327} the intention merely indicated. It looks as if the workmen had been suddenly called off while the whole was in progress, and native traditions, which always are framed to account for what is otherwise most unintelligible, have seized on this peculiarity, and make it the prominent feature in their myths. Add to this that it is only now we are acquiring that knowledge of the subject and familiarity with its details, which will enable us to check the vagaries of Indian speculation. From all these causes it is not difficult to understand how easily mistakes might be made in treating of such mysterious objects.

If we do not know all we would wish about the antiquities of Mahavellipore, it is not because attempts have not been made to supply the information. Situated on an open sea-beach, within one night’s easy dâk from Madras, it has been more visited and oftener described than any other place in India. The first volume of the ‘Asiatic Researches’ (1788) contained an exhaustive paper on them by W. Chambers. This was followed in the fifth (1798) by another by Mr. Goldingham. In the second volume of the ‘Transactions of the Royal Asiatic Society’ there appeared what was then considered a most successful attempt to decipher the inscriptions there, by Dr. Guy Babington, accompanied by views of most of the sculptures. The ‘Madras Journal,’ in 1844, contained a guide to the place by Lieutenant Braddock, with notes by the Rev. W. Taylor and Sir Walter Elliot; and almost every journal of every traveller in these parts contains some hint regarding them, or some attempt to describe and explain their peculiarities or beauties. Most of these were collected in a volume in 1869 by a Lieutenant Carr, and published at the expense of the Madras Government, but unfortunately the editor selected had no general knowledge of the subject, nor had he apparently any local familiarity with the place. His work in consequence adds little to our previous stores.

In addition to all this, Colonel Mackenzie undertook to illustrate the place, and employed his staff to make detailed drawings of all the sculptures and architectural details, and a volume containing thirty-seven drawings of the place is in his collection in the India Office, and Daniell has also published some faithful representations of the place. Quite recently it has been surveyed by the revenue surveyors, and photographed by Dr. Hunter, Captain Lyon, and others, so that the materials seem ample; but the fact is, they have been collected at such distant times, and by individuals differing so essentially in capability or instruction, that it is almost impossible, except on the spot, to co-ordinate the whole. Any accomplished architect or archæologist could do it easily in a month, and tell us the whole story. Meanwhile, however, the main features seem tolerably distinct, and ascertained within limits sufficient for our present purposes.{328}

The oldest and most interesting group of monuments at Mahavellipore, are the so-called five raths or monolithic temples standing on the sea-shore—one of these, that with the apsidal termination in the centre of the annexed woodcut (No. 181), stands a little detached from the rest. The other four stand in a line north and south, and look as if they had been carved out of a single stone or rock, which originally, if that were so, must have been between 85 ft. and 40 ft. high at its southern end, sinking to half that height at its northern extremity, and its width diminishing in a like proportion.

The first on the north is a mere Pansala or cell 11 ft. square externally, and 16 ft. high. It is the only one too that seems finished or nearly so, but it has no throne or image internally from which we might guess its destination.

181. Raths, Mahavellipore. (From a Sketch by the Author.)

The next is a small copy of the last to the southward, and measures 11 ft. by 16 ft. in plan, and 20 ft. in height. The third, seen partially in the above woodcut, is very remarkable: it is an oblong building with a curvilinear shaped roof with a straight ridge. Its dimensions are 42 ft. long, 25 ft. wide, and 25 ft. high. Externally, it seems to have been completely carved, but internally only partially excavated, the works being apparently stopped by an accident. It is cracked completely through, so that daylight can be seen through it, and several masses of the rock have fallen to the ground—this has been ascribed to an earthquake and other causes. My impression is, the explanation is not far to seek, but arose from unskilfulness on the part of workmen{329} employed in a first attempt. Having completed the exterior, they set to work to excavate the interior so as to make it resemble a structural building of the same class, leaving only such pillars and supports as were sufficient to support a wooden roof of the ordinary construction. In this instance it was a mass of solid granite which, had the excavation been completed, would certainly have crushed the lower storey to powder. As it was, the builders seem to have taken the hint of the crack and stopped the further progress of the works.

The last, however, is the most interesting of the series. A view of it has already been given (Woodcut No. 66), and it is shown on the right hand of the last woodcut. Its dimensions are 27 ft. by 28 ft. in plan, 34 ft. in height. Its upper part is entirely finished with its sculptures, the lower merely blocked out. It may be, that frightened by the crack in the last-named rath, or from some other cause, they desisted, and it still remains in an unfinished state.

The materials for fixing the age of this rath are, first, the palæographical form of the characters used in the numerous inscriptions with which it is covered.[360] Comparing these with Prinsep’s alphabets, allowing for difference of locality, they seem certainly to be anterior to the 7th century.[361] The language, too, is Sanscrit, while all the Chola inscriptions of the 10th and subsequent centuries are in Tamil, and in very much more modern characters.[362] Another proof of antiquity is the character of the sculpture. We have on this rath most of the Hindu Pantheon, such as Brahma and Vishnu; Siva too appears in most of his characters, but all in forms more subdued than are to be found elsewhere. The one extravagance is that the gods generally have four arms—never more—to distinguish them from mortals; but none of these combinations or extravagances we find in the caves here, or at Ellora or Elephanta. It is the soberest and most reasonable version of the Hindu Pantheon yet discovered, and consequently one of the most interesting, as well, probably, as the earliest.

None of the inscriptions on the raths have dates, but from the mention of the Pallavas in connexion with this place, I see no reason for doubting the inference drawn by Sir Walter Elliot from their inscriptions—“that the excavations could not well have been made later than the 6th century.”[363] Add to all this, that these raths are certainly very like Buddhist buildings, as we learn to know them from the early caves, and it seems hardly to admit of doubt that we{330} have here petrifactions of the last forms of Buddhist architecture,[364] and of the first forms of that of the Dravidians.

The want of interiors in these raths makes it sometimes difficult to make this so clear as it might be. We cannot, for instance, tell whether the apsidal rath in the centre of woodcut No. 181 was meant to reproduce a chaitya hall, or a vihara like that of woodcut No. 48. From its being in several storeys I would infer the latter, but the whole is so conventionalised by transplantation to the south, and by the different uses to which they are applied for the purposes of a different religion, that we must not stretch analogies too far.[365]

182. Arjuna’s Rath, Mahavellipore. (From a Photograph.)

There is one other rath, at some distance from the others, called Arjuna’s rath, represented in the above woodcut (No. 182), which, strange to say, is finished, or nearly so, and gives a fair idea of the form these oblong temples took before we have any structural buildings{331}

183. Perumal Pagoda, Mádura. (From a MS. Drawing in the possession of the late General Monteith, Madras Engineers.) No scale.

of the class. This temple, though entering in the side, was never intended to be pierced through, but always to contain a cell. The large oblong rath, on the contrary, was intended to be open all round, and whether, consequently, we should consider it as a choultrie or a gopura is not quite clear. One thing, at all events, seems certain—and it is what interests us most here—that the square raths are copies of Buddhist viharas, and are the originals from which all the vimanas in southern India were copied, and continued to be copied nearly unchanged to a very late period. Woodcut No. 183, for instance, represents one from Mádura, erected in the 18th century. It is changed, it is true, and the cells and some of the earlier features are hardly recognisable; but the wonder rather is that twelve centuries should not have more completely obliterated all traces of the original. There is nothing, however, in it which cannot be easily recognised in intermediate examples, and their gradual transformation detected by any one{332} familiar with the subject. On the other hand, the oblong raths were halls or porticoes with the Buddhists, and became the gopuras or gateways which are frequently—indeed generally—more important parts of Dravidian temples than the vimanas themselves. They, too, like the vimanas, retain their original features very little changed to the present day, as may be seen from the annexed example from a modern Tamil temple on the opposite shore of the Gulf of Manaar (Woodcut No. 184). To all this, however, we shall have frequent opportunities of referring in the sequel, and it will become much plainer as we proceed.

184. Entrance to a Hindu Temple, Colombo. (From Sir J. E. Tennent’s ‘Ceylon.’)

The other antiquities at Mahavellipore, though very interesting in themselves, are not nearly so important for our history as the raths just described. The caves are generally small, and fail architecturally, from the feebleness and tenuity of their supports. The southern cave diggers had evidently not been grounded in the art, like their northern compeers, by the Buddhists. The long experience of the latter in the art taught them that ponderous masses were not only necessary to support their roofs, but for architectural effect; and neither they nor the Hindus who succeeded them in the north ever hesitated to use pillars of two or three diameters in height, or to crowd them together to any required extent. In the south, on the contrary, the cave diggers tried to copy literally the structural pillars used to support wooden roofs. Hence, I believe, the accident to the long rath, and hence certainly the poor and modern look of all the southern caves, which has hitherto proved such a stumbling-block to all who have tried to guess their age. Their sculpture is better, and some of their best designs rank with those of Ellora and Elephanta, with{333} which they were, in all probability, contemporary. Now, however, that we know that the sculptures in cave No. 3 at Badami were executed in the 6th century[366] (A.D. 579), we are enabled to approximate the date of those in the Mahavellipore caves with very tolerable certainty. The Badami sculptures are so similar in style with the best examples there that they cannot be far distant in date, and if placed in the following century it will not probably be far from the truth.

The great bas-relief on the rock, 90 ft. by 40 ft., is perhaps the most remarkable thing of its class in India. Now that it is known to be wholly devoted to Serpent worship,[367] it acquires an interest it had not before, and opens a new chapter in Indian mythology.[368] There seems nothing to enable us to fix its age with absolute certainty; it can hardly, however, be doubted that it is anterior to the 10th century, and may be a couple of centuries earlier.

185. Tiger Cave at Saluvan Kuppan. (From a Photograph.)

There is one other antiquity in a place called Saluvan Kuppan, two miles north of Mahavellipore, which has not yet been drawn or described, but deserves notice as a lineal descendant of the tiger cave at Cuttack (Woodcut No. 73). Here not one but a dozen of tiger heads welcome the anchorite to his abode. Here, too, they are conventionalised as we always find them in Chalukyan art; and this example serves, like every other, to show how the Hindu imagination in art{334} runs wild when once freed from the trammels of sober imitation of natural things, which we find to be its characteristic in the early stages of Buddhist art.

Kylas, Ellora.

From the raths at Mahavellipore to the Kylas at Ellora the transition is easy, but the step considerable. At the first-named place we have manifest copies of structures intended originally for other purposes, and used at Mahavellipore in a fragmentary and disjointed manner. At Ellora, on the contrary, the whole is welded together, and we have a perfect Dravidian temple, as complete in all its parts as at any future period, and so far advanced that we might have some difficulty in tracing the parts back to their originals without the fortunate possession of the examples on the Madras shore.

186. Kylas at Ellora. (Corrected from a Plan in Daniell’s ‘Views in Hindostan.’) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

Independently, however, of its historical or ethnographical value, the Kylas is in itself one of the most singular and interesting monuments of architectural art in India. Its beauty and singularity always excited the astonishment of travellers, and in consequence it is better known than almost any other structure in that country, from the numerous views and sketches of it that have been published. Unlike the Buddhist excavations we have hitherto been describing, it is not a mere interior chamber cut in the rock, but is a model of a complete temple, such as might have been erected on the plain. In other words, the rock has been cut away, externally as well as internally. The older caves are of a much more natural and rational design than this temple, because, in cutting away the rock around it to provide an exterior, the whole has necessarily been{335}

187. Kylas, Ellora. (From a Sketch by the Author.)

placed in a pit. In the cognate temples at Mahavellipore (Woodcut No. 181) this difficulty has been escaped by the fact that the boulders of granite out of which they are hewn were found lying free on the shore; but at Ellora, no insulated rock being available, a pit was dug around the temple in the sloping side of the hill, about 100 ft. deep at its inmost side, and half that height at the entrance or gopura, the floor of the pit being 150 ft. wide and 270 ft. in length. In the centre of this rectangular court stands the temple, as shown in the preceding plan (Woodcut No. 186), consisting of a vimana, between 80 ft. and 90 ft. in height, preceded by a large square porch, supported by sixteen columns (owing probably to the immense weight to be borne); before this stands a detached porch, reached by a bridge; and in front of all stands the gateway, which is in like manner connected with the last porch by a bridge, the whole being cut out of the native rock. Besides these there are two pillars or deepdans (literally lamp-posts) left standing on each side of the detached porch, and two elephants about the size of life. All round the court there is a peristylar cloister with cells, and some halls not shown in the plan, which give to the whole a complexity, and at the same time{336} a completeness, which never fail to strike the beholder with astonishment and awe.

As will be seen from the view (Woodcut No. 187) the outline of the vimana is at first sight very similar to that of the raths at Mahavellipore, but on closer inspection we find everything so modified at Ellora as to make up a perfect and well understood design. The vimana with its cells, and the porch in front of it with its side cells, make a complete Hindu temple such as are found in hundreds in southern India, and instead of the simulated cells that surround the hall in the Madras example, they again become realities, but used for widely different purposes. Instead of being the simulated residences of priests, the five or rather seven cells that surround the central object here are each devoted to a separate divinity of the Hindu Pantheon, and group most pleasingly with the central vimana. It is, however, so far as is now known, the last reminiscence of this Buddhist arrangement in Hindu architecture; after the year 1000 even these cells disappear or become independent erections, wholly separated from the temple itself.

Though considerably damaged by Moslem violence, the lower part of the gopura shows a considerable advance on anything found at Mahavellipore, and a close approach to what these objects afterwards became, in so far, at least, as the perpendicular parts are concerned; instead, however, of the tall pyramids which were so universal afterwards, the gopura in the Kylas exhibits only what may be called the germ of such an arrangement. It is only the upper member of a gopura placed in the flat roof of the gateway, and so small as not to be visible except from above. In more modern times from five to ten storeys would have been interposed to connect these two parts. Nothing of the kind however exists here.[369]

On either side of the porch are the two square pillars called deepdans, or lamp-posts, before alluded to, the ornament at the top of which possibly represents a flame, though it is difficult to ascertain what it really is, while the temptation to consider them as representatives of the lion pillars of the Buddhists (Woodcut No. 6) is very great (Woodcut No. 188).

In the south of India, however, among the Jains, as mentioned above (p. 276), such pillars are very common, standing either singly or in pairs in front of the gopuras, and always apparently intended to carry lamps for festivals. They generally consist of a single block of granite, square at base, changing to an octagon, and again to a figure of sixteen sides, with a capital of very elegant shape. Some, however, are circular, and, indeed, their variety is infinite. They range from{337} 30 ft. to 40 ft. and even 50 ft. in height, and, whatever their dimensions, are among the most elegant specimens of art in southern India.

183. Deepdan in Dharwar. (From a Photograph.)

Unfortunately, there is no inscription or other date from which the age of the Kylas can be ascertained with precision. It is safe, however, to assert that it was erected by the southern Dravidians, either the Cheras or the Cholas who held sway here during the eclipse of the Chalukyas, or between A.D. 750 and 950; and Mr. Burgess’s recent researches in Dharwar enable us to assert with tolerable confidence that its age must be nearer the first than the second of these dates. The great temple at Purudkul—his Pattadkal—is covered with inscriptions, none of which unfortunately are dated, but from their import and the form of their characters, both Bhau Daji[370] and himself ascribe to the 8th or 9th century,[371] and I see no reason for doubting the{338} correctness of the date assigned by Mr. Burgess to this temple, which, according to him was erected during the 8th century. In plan it is almost exactly a duplicate of the Kylas, as may be gathered from the annexed woodcut (No. 189), but there is some little difficulty in instituting such a comparison of their architecture as would enable us to feel sure of their relative dates[372]—in the first place, because the one is structural the other rock-cut, but also because we hardly know what allowance to make for distance of locality. On the whole, however, I am inclined to believe the southern temple is the elder of the two, but certainly not distant in date. If, consequently, it were necessary to fix on a date which should correctly represent our present knowledge of the age of the Kylas, I would put down A.D. 800, with considerable confidence that it was not many years from the truth either way, allowing, of course, some thirty to fifty years for the execution of so important a monument.

189. Plan of Great Temple at Purudkul. (From a Plan by Mr Burgess.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

Considerable misconception exists on the subject of cutting temples in the rock. Almost every one who sees these temples is struck with the apparently prodigious amount of labour bestowed on their excavation, and there is no doubt that their monolithic character is the principal source of the awe and wonder with which they have been regarded, and that, had the Kylas been an edifice of masonry situated on the plain, it would scarcely have attracted the attention of European travellers. In reality, however, it is considerably easier and less expensive to excavate a temple than to build one. Take, for instance, the Kylas, the most wonderful of all this class. To excavate the area on which it stands would require the removal of about 100,000 cubic yards of rock, but, as the base of the temple is solid and the superstructure massive, it occupies in round numbers about one-half of the excavated area, so that the question is simply this—whether it is easier to chip away 50,000 yards of rock, and shoot it to spoil (to borrow a railway term) down a hillside, or to quarry 50,000 cubic yards of stone, remove it, probably a mile at least to the place where the temple is to be built, and then to raise and set it. The excavating process would probably cost about one-tenth of the other. The{339} sculpture and ornament would be the same in both instances, more especially in India, where buildings are always set up in block, and the carving executed in situ. Nevertheless the impression produced on all spectators by these monolithic masses, their unalterable character, and appearance of eternal durability, point to the process as one meriting more attention than it has hitherto received in modern times; and if any rock were found as uniform and as easily worked as the Indian amygdaloidal traps, we might hand down to posterity some more durable monument than many we are now erecting at far greater cost.

Before leaving this branch of the subject there is one other rock-cut example which deserves to be quoted, not either for its size or antiquity, but from the elegance of its details. It is situated at a place called Kûmûlûlû,[373] thirty-five miles south-west from Shivelliputtun, and consequently twice that distance north from Cape Comorin. Like the examples at Mahavellipore, this one never was finished, probably because the person who commenced it did not live to complete it, and it was nobody’s business to finish what was of no use, and intended only to glorify him who made it. It is not cut out of a separate boulder, but out of a ridge, as I fancy those at Mahavellipore to have been, and if successful, any number of others of any dimensions might have followed. The other side of the hill had been occupied by the Jains, and numerous images of their Tirthankars are carved upon it, with inscriptions that could easily be read if any one cared to do so. It was evidently to mark the triumph of Siva over Mahavira that this little shrine was undertaken, probably in the 10th or 11th century, and if it had been completed it would have been one of the most perfect gems of the style. For some reason unexplained it was only blocked out, and the upper part only carved, when it was abandoned, and is now entirely forsaken. From its details, it certainly is more modern than the Kylas—how much we cannot yet say with certainty.{340}

## CHAPTER III.
DRAVIDIAN TEMPLES.

CONTENTS.

Tanjore—Tiruvalur—Seringham—Chillambaram—Ramisseram—Mádura—Tinnevelly—Combaconum—Conjeveram—Vellore and Peroor—Vijayanagar.

When we turn from these few scattered rock-cut examples to the great structural temples of the style, we find their number is so great, their extent so vast, and their variety so perplexing, that it is extremely difficult to formulate any distinct ideas regarding them, and still more so, as a matter of course, to convey to others any clear idea on the subject. To any one at all familiar with the present status of the population of the province, the greatest wonder is how such a people could ever have conceived, much less carried out, such vast undertakings as these, and that so recently that some of the greatest and boldest were only interrupted by our wars with the French little more than a century ago. The cause of this, however, is not far to seek. Ever since we took possession of the country, our countrymen have been actuated by the most beneficent intentions of protecting the poor against the oppression of the rich. By every means we have sought to secure the ryot in his holding, and that he should not be called on to pay more than his fair share of the produce of his land; while to the landowner we have offered a secure title to what belonged to him, and a fixed income in money in lieu of his portion of the produce. To a people, however, in the state of civilization to which India has reached, a secure title and a fixed income only means the power of borrowing on the occasion of a marriage, a funeral, or some great family festival, ten times more than the borrower can ever pay, and our courts as inevitably give the lender the power of foreclosing his mortgage and selling the property. During the century in which this communistic process has been going on the landed aristocracy have gradually disappeared. All the wealth of the country has passed into the hands of the money-lenders of the cities, and by them dissipated in frivolities. If the aim of the government is to reduce the whole population to the condition of peasant proprietors, occupying the land without capital, and consequently on the verge of starvation, they have certainly succeeded. It may be{341} beneficent, and may produce the greatest happiness to the greatest number; but in such a community neither science, nor literature, nor art have any place, and religion itself becomes degraded by the status of its votaries.

Before we interfered, the condition of things was totally different. The practical proprietorship of the land was then in the hands of a few princes or feudal lords, who derived from it immense revenues they had no means of spending, except in works of ostentation, which in certain stages of civilization are as necessary for the employment of the masses as for their own glorification. In such a country as India the employment of one-half of the population in agriculture is sufficient to produce food for the whole, while the other half are free for any employment that may be available. We in this country employ our non-agricultural half in manufactures and commerce. The southern Indians had neither, and found no better occupation for the surplus population than in temple-building. Whether this was more profitable or beneficial than hammering iron or spinning cotton is not a question it is necessary to enter on here. It is enough to know the fact, and to mark its consequences. The population of southern India in the 17th and 18th century was probably hardly less than it is now—some thirty millions—and if one-third or one-fourth of such a population were to seek employment in building, the results, if persevered in through centuries, would be something astonishing. A similar state of affairs prevailed apparently in Egypt in the time of the Pharaohs, but with very different results. The Egyptians had great and lofty ideas, and a hankering after immortality, that impressed itself on all their works. The southern Indians had no such aspirations. Their intellectual status is, and always was, mediocre; they had no literature of their own—no history to which they could look back with pride, and their religion was, and is, an impure and degrading fetishism. It is impossible that anything very grand or imposing should come out of such a state of things. What they had to offer to their gods was a tribute of labour, and that was bestowed without stint. To cut a chain of fifty links out of a block of granite and suspend it between two pillars, was with them a triumph of art. To hollow deep cornices out of the hardest basalt, and to leave all the framings, as if of the most delicate woodwork, standing free, was with them a worthy object of ambition, and their sculptures are still inexplicable mysteries, from our ignorance of how it was possible to execute them. All that millions of hands working through centuries could do, has been done, but with hardly any higher motive than to employ labour and to conquer difficulties, so as to astonish by the amount of the first and the cleverness with which the second was overcome—and astonished we are; but without some higher motive true architecture cannot exist. The Dravidians had{342} not even the constructive difficulties to overcome which enabled the mediæval architects to produce such noble fabrics as our cathedrals. The aim of architects in the Middle Ages was to design halls which should at the same time be vast, but stable, and suited for the accommodation of great multitudes to witness a lofty ritual. In their struggle to accomplish this they developed intellectual powers which impress us still through their works. No such lofty aims exercised the intellectual faculties of the Hindu. His altar and the statue of his god were placed in a dark cubical cell wholly without ornament, and the porch that preceded that was not necessarily either lofty or spacious. What the Hindu architect craved for, was a place to display his powers of ornamentation, and he thought he had accomplished all his art demanded when he covered every part of his building with the most elaborate and most difficult designs he could invent. Much of this ornamentation, it is true, is very elegant, and evidences of power and labour do impress the human imagination, often even in defiance of our better judgment, and nowhere is this more apparent than in these Dravidian temples. It is in vain, however, we look among them for any manifestation of those lofty aims and noble results which constitute the merit and the greatness of true architectural art, and which generally characterise the best works in the true styles of the western world.

Turning from these generalities to the temples themselves, the first great difficulty experienced in attempting either to classify or describe them is that no plans of them exist. I know myself upwards of thirty great Dravidian temples, or groups of temples, any one of which must have cost as much to build as an English cathedral, some a great deal more; but of all these there are only three, or it may be four, of which even a moderately trustworthy plan is available. Two-thirds of these have been sufficiently photographed by Dr. Hunter, Capt. Lyon,[374] and others; the remaining third I know either from personal inspection or from drawings and descriptions. This is, of course, irrespective of village temples, and, it may be, of some extensive groups which have been overlooked. If these temples had been built like those of the Greeks, or even as the Christian churches in the Middle Ages, on one uniform plan, changing only with the progress of time, one or two plans might have sufficed; but the fact is that, in nine cases out of ten, Dravidian temples are a fortuitous aggregation of parts, arranged without plan, as accident dictated at{343} the time of their erection; and, without plans, no adequate idea can be conveyed to those who have not seen them. The one great exception to this rule is to be found at Tanjore. The great Pagoda there was commenced on a well-defined and stately plan, which was persevered in till its completion. As will be seen from the annexed diagram (Woodcut No. 190) it consists of two courts,[375] one a square of about 250 ft., originally devoted to minor shrines and residences; but when the temple was fortified by the French in 1777[376] it was converted into an arsenal, and has not been re-appropriated to sacred purposes. The temple itself stands in a courtyard extremely well proportioned to receive it, being about 500 ft. long by half that in width, the distance between the gateway and the temple being broken by the shrine of the Bull Nundi,[377] which is sufficiently important for its purpose, but not so much so as to interfere with the effect of the great vimana, which stands near the inner end of the court. The perpendicular part of its base measures 82 ft. square, and is two storeys in height, of simple outline, but sufficiently relieved by niches and pilasters. Above this the pyramid rises in thirteen storeys to the summit, which is crowned by a dome said to consist of a single stone, and reaching a height of 190 ft. The porch in front is kept low, and as will be seen from the woodcut (No. 191) the tower dominates over the gopuras and surrounding objects in a manner that imparts great dignity to the whole composition.

190. Diagram Plan of Tanjore Pagoda. (From a Sketch by the Author.) Scale 200 ft. to 1 in.

Besides the great temple and the Nundi porch there are several{344} other smaller shrines in the enclosure, one of which, dedicated to Soubramanya, a son of Siva’s, is as exquisite a piece of decorative architecture as is to be found in the south of India, and though small, almost divides our admiration with the temple itself (Woodcut No. 192). It is built behind an older shrine, which may be coeval with the great temple as originally designed.

191. View of the Great Pagoda at Tanjore. (From a Photograph by Middleton Rayne, Esq., C.E.)

One of the peculiarities of the Tanjore temple is that all the sculptures on the gopuras belong to the religion of Vishnu, while everything in the courtyard is dedicated to the worship of Siva. At first I felt inclined to believe it had been erected wholly in honour of the first-named divinity, but am now more inclined to the belief that it is only an instance of the extreme tolerance that prevailed at the age at which it was erected, before these religions became antagonistic.{345}

192. Temple of Soubramanya, Tanjore. (From a Photograph.)

What, then, was that age? Strange to say, though so complete and uniform, and standing, as it does, almost alone, its date is not known. Mr. Norman, a competent authority, in the text that accompanied Tripe’s photographs, says it was erected by Kadu Vettiya Soran, or Cholan,[378] a king reigning at Conjeveram in the beginning of the 14th century. At one time I hoped it was earlier, but on the whole I am now convinced that this must be very nearly the truth.

The Soubramanya is certainly one century, probably two centuries, more modern. The Bull itself is also inferior in design, and therefore more modern than those at Hullabîd, which belong probably to the 13th century, and the architecture of his shrine cannot be carried back beyond the 15th century. It may even be considerably more modern. It is disappointing to find the whole so recent in date, but there seems no excuse for ascribing to this temple a greater antiquity than that just mentioned.{346}

Tiruvalur.

The temple at Tiruvalur, about thirty miles west of Madras, contrasts curiously with that at Tanjore in the principles on which it was designed, and serves to exemplify the mode in which, unfortunately, most Dravidian temples were aggregated.

193. Inner Temple at Tiruvalur.

Scale 200 ft. to 1 in.

The nucleus here was a small village temple (Woodcut No. 193), drawn to the same scale as the plan of Tanjore in Woodcut No. 190. It is a double shrine, dedicated to Siva and his consort, standing in a cloistered court which measures 192 ft. by 156 ft. over all, and has one gopura in front. So far there is nothing to distinguish it from the ordinary temples found in every village. It, however, at some subsequent period became sacred or rich, and a second or outer court was added, measuring 470 ft. each way, with two gopuras, higher than the original one, and containing within its walls numberless little shrines and porches.

194. Temple at Tiruvalur. (From a Drawing in Ram Raz’s ‘Hindu Architecture’.)

Additions were again made at some subsequent date, the whole being enclosed in a court 940 ft. by 701 ft.—this time with five gopuras, and several important shrines. When the last addition was made, it was intended to endow the temple with one of those great halls which{347} were considered indispensable in temples of the first class. Generally they had—or were intended to have—1000 columns; this one has only 688, and only about one-half of these carry beams or a roof of any sort. There can, however, be very little doubt that, had time and money been available, it would have been completed to the typical extent. As it is, it is probably owing to our management of the revenues of the country that the requisite funds were not forthcoming, and the buildings stopped probably within the limits of the present century.

The general effect of such a design as this may be gathered from the bird’s-eye view (Woodcut No. 194). As an artistic design, nothing can be worse. The gateways, irregularly spaced in a great blank wall, lose half their dignity from their positions; and the bathos of their decreasing in size and elaboration, as they approach the sanctuary, is a mistake which nothing can redeem. We may admire beauty of detail, and be astonished at the elaboration and evidence of labour, if they are found in such a temple as this, but as an architectural design it is altogether detestable.

Seringham.

The temple which has been most completely marred by this false system of design is that at Seringham, which is certainly the largest, and, if its principle of design could be reversed, would be one of the finest temples in the south of India (Woodcut No. 195, p. 349). Here the central enclosure is quite as small and as insignificant as that at Tiruvalur, and except that its dome is gilt has nothing to distinguish it from an ordinary village temple. The next enclosure, however, is more magnificent. It encloses the hall of 1000 columns, which measures some 450 ft. by 130 ft. The number of columns is, I believe, sixteen in front by sixty in depth, or 960 altogether; but I do not feel sure there is not some mistake in my observations, and that the odd forty are to be found somewhere. They consequently are not spaced more than 10 ft. apart from centre to centre; and as at one end the hall is hardly over 10 ft. high, and in the loftiest place only 15 ft. or 16 ft., and the pillars spaced nearly evenly over the floor, it will be easily understood how little effect such a building really produces. They are, however, each of a single block of granite, and all carved more or less elaborately. A much finer portico stretches across this court from gopura to gopura; the pillars in it are much more widely spaced, and the central aisle is double that of those on the sides, and crosses the portico in the centre, making a transept; its height, too, is double that of the side aisles. It is a pleasing and graceful architectural design; the other is only an{348} evidence of misapplied labour. The next four enclosures have nothing very remarkable in them, being generally occupied by the Brahmans and persons connected with the temple. Each, however, has, or was intended to have, four gopuras, one on each face, and some of these are of very considerable magnificence. The outer enclosure is, practically, a bazaar, filled with shops, where pilgrims are lodged, and fed, and fleeced. The wall that encloses it measures 2475 ft. by 2880 ft.,[379] and, had its gopuras been finished, they would have surpassed all others in the south to the same extent as these dimensions exceed those of any other known temple. The northern gopura, leading to the river and Trichinopoly, measures 130 ft. in width by 100 ft. in depth; the opening through it measures 21 ft. 6 in., and twice that in height. The four jambs or gateposts are each of a single slab of granite, more than 40 ft. in height, and the roofing-slabs throughout measure from 23 ft. to 24 ft. Had the ordinary brick pyramid of the usual proportion been added to this, the whole would have risen to a height of nearly 300 ft. Even as it is, it is one of the most imposing masses in southern India, and probably—perhaps because it never was quite finished—it is in severe and good taste throughout.[380] Its date, fortunately, is perfectly well known, as its progress was stopped by its being occupied and fortified by the French during our ten years’ struggle with them for the possession of Trichinopoly; and if we allow fifty years for its progress, even this would bring the whole within the limits of the 18th century. The other three gopuras of this enclosure are in the same style, and were commenced on the same scale, but not being so far advanced when we stopped the work, their gateposts project above their walls in a manner that gives them a very singular appearance, and has led to some strange theories as to their design.

Looked at from a distance, or in any direction where the whole can be grasped at once, these fourteen or fifteen great gate towers cannot fail to produce a certain effect, as may be gathered from the view in Woodcut No. 195; but even then it can only be by considering them as separate buildings. As parts of one whole, their arrangement is exactly that which enables them to produce the least possible effect that can be obtained either from their mass or ornament. Had the four great outer gopuras formed the four sides of a central hall, and the others gone on diminishing, in three or four directions, to the exterior, the effect of the whole would have been increased in a surprising degree. To accomplish this, however, one{349}

195. View of the eastern half of the Great Temple at Seringham. (From a Photograph.)

{350}

other defect must have been remedied: a gateway even 150 ft. wide in a wall nearly 2000 ft. in extent is a solecism nothing can redeem; but had the walls been broken in plan or star-shaped, like the plans of Chalukyan temples, light and shade would have been obtained, and due proportions of parts, without any inconvenience. But if the Dravidians ever had it in them to think of such things, it was not during the 17th and 18th centuries, to which everything in this temple seems to belong.

Chillambaram.

The temple at Chillambaram is one of the most venerated, and has also the reputation of being one of the most ancient, temples in southern India. It was there, therefore, if anywhere, that I at one time hoped to find some remains that would help to elucidate the history of the style. It was, besides, so far removed from any capital city or frequented haunt of man that one might hope to find its original form unaltered.

It is old, but I am afraid the traditions that connect its foundation with Hiranya Verma of Kashmir, in the beginning of the 6th century, on which I was at one time inclined to rely,[381] are of too impalpable a nature to be depended upon. I see no great reason for doubting that there may have been a connexion between the kings of Chola and those of Kashmir at the period; but I cannot see anything in this temple either of so early an age, or any feature in the style of Kashmiri architecture. On the other hand, the foundation of the temple appears to be clearly described in the following passage of the Kongadesa Raja Kal:—“Vira Chola Raya (A.D. 927 to 977) one day saw on the sea-shore the Sabhápati of Chillambara (Siva), attended by Parvati, dancing and beating the damaraka (a kind of drum); he therefore expended great sums of money in building the Kanaka, or Golden Sabha.”[382] A little further on, it is said, “Ari Vari Deva (A.D. 1004), observing that his grandfather had built only a Kanaka Sabhá to the Chillambara deity, he built gopuras, maddals (enclosures), madapanas (image-houses), sabhás (holy places or apartments), and granted many jewels to the deity.” If this last could be applied to the great enclosure, it would be a most important date; but on a careful examination of the whole circumstances of the case I feel convinced that these passages refer only to the two inner enclosures, B B, at the west end of the tank (Woodcut No. 196). They, indeed, measuring about 320 ft. square, appear to have been the whole of the original temple, at least in the 10th and 11th centuries, always supposing{351}

196. Plan of Temple of Chillambaram.

(From a Plan by Admiral Paris, in ‘Tour du Monde,’ vol. xvi. p. 35.)

that any part of the building is really as old as this. On the whole, however, I am inclined to believe that this inner temple is really the one referred to in the above extract. The temple of Parvati, C, on the north of the tank, was added afterwards, most probably in the 14th or 15th century, and to that age the great gopuras and the second enclosure also belong. The hall of 1000 columns, E, was almost certainly erected between 1595 and 1685, at which time, we learn from the Mackenzie MSS., the kings of the locality made many donations to the fane.[383] It was then, also, in all probability,{352} the outer enclosure was commenced; but it never was carried out, being in most places only a few feet above the foundation.

The oldest thing now existing here is a little shrine in the inmost enclosure (opposite A in the plan), with a little porch of two pillars, about 6 ft. high, but resting on a stylobate, ornamented with dancing figures, more graceful and more elegantly executed than any other of their class, so far as I know, in southern India. At the sides are wheels and horses, the whole being intended to represent a car, as is frequently the case in these temples. Whitewash and modern alterations have sadly disfigured this gem, but enough remains to show how exquisite, and consequently how ancient, it was. It was dedicated to Verma, the god of dancing, in allusion, probably, to the circumstance above mentioned as leading to the foundation of the temple.

In front of it is a shrine of very unusual architecture, with a tall copper roof, which, I have no doubt, represents or is the golden sabhá above referred to, and in front of this is a gopura and pillared porch, making up what seems to have been the temple of Vira Deva. The outer enclosure, with the buildings it contains, are, it appears, those of Ari Vari.

The temple of Parvati, C, is principally remarkable for its porch, which is of singular elegance. The following woodcut (No. 197) gives some idea of its present appearance, and the section (Woodcut No. 198) explains its construction. The outer aisles are 6 ft. in width, the next 8 ft., but the architect reserved all his power for the central aisle, which measures 21 ft. 6 in. in width, making the whole 50 ft. or thereabouts. In order to roof this without employing stones of such dimensions as would crush the supports, recourse was had to vaulting, or rather bracketing, shafts, and these brackets were again tied together by transverse purlins, all in stone, and the system was continued till the width was reduced to a dimension that could easily be spanned. As the whole is enclosed in a court surrounded by galleries two storeys in height, the effect of the whole is singularly pleasing.

Opposite to this, across the tank, is the hall of 1000 columns, similar in many respects to that at Seringham, above described, but probably slightly more modern. Here the pillars are arranged twenty-four in front by forty-one in depth, making 984; but in order to get a central space, four in the porch, then twenty-eight, then two, and again twenty-four, have been omitted, altogether fifty-eight; but, on the other hand, those of the external portico must be added, which nearly balances the loss, and makes up the 1000.[384] It must be{353}

197. View of Porch at Chillambaram. (From Drawings by the Author.)

198. Section of Porch of Temple at Chillambaram. (From a Sketch by the Author.) No Scale.

{354}

199. Ruined Temple or Pagoda at Chillambaram. (From a Photograph.)

confessed this forest of granite pillars, each of a single stone, and all more or less carved and ornamented, does produce a certain grandeur of effect, but the want of design in the arrangement, and of subordination of parts, detract painfully from the effect that might have been{355} produced. Leaving out the pillars in the centre is the one redeeming feature, and that could easily have been effected without the brick vaults, formed of radiating arches, which are employed here—another certain proof of the modern age of the building. These vaults are certainly integral, and as certainly could not have been employed till after the Mahomedans had settled in the south, and taught the Hindus how to use them.

Although this temple has been aggregated at different ages, and grown by accident rather than design like those at Tiruvalur and Seringham just described, it avoids the great defect of these temples, for though like them it has no tall central object to give dignity to the whole from the outside, internally the centre of its great court is occupied by a tank, round which the various objects are grouped without at all interfering with one another. The temple itself is one important object, to the eastward of it; the Parvati temple another, on the north, and forms a pleasing pendant to the 1000-columned choultrie on the south. Alongside the Parvati another temple was commenced (Woodcut No. 199), with a portico of square pillars, four in front, and all most elaborately ornamented, but in such a manner as not to interfere with their outline or solidity.

From its unfinished and now ruined state, it is not easy to say to whom this temple was dedicated—most probably Soubramanya—nor to feel sure of its age. From its position, however, and the character of its ornamentation, there seems little doubt that it belongs to the end of the 17th and first half of the 18th century. From its style, I would be inclined to ascribe it to the earlier date, but in that case it is difficult to understand its not being finished. When they had money to erect the great hall, and to commence a new enclosure, they might certainly have spared enough to complete this solitary shrine.

Ramisseram.

If it were proposed to select one temple which should exhibit all the beauties of the Dravidian style in their greatest perfection, and at the same time exemplify all its characteristic defects of design, the choice would almost inevitably fall on that at Ramisseram, in the island of Paumben (Woodcut No. 200). In no other temple has the same amount of patient industry been exhibited as here, and in none, unfortunately, has that labour been so thrown away for want of a design appropriate for its display. It is not that this temple has grown by successive increments like those last described; it was begun and finished on a previously settled plan, as regularly and as undeviatingly carried out as that at Tanjore, but on a principle so diametrically opposed to it, that while the temple at Tanjore produces{356} an effect greater than is due to its mass or detail, this one, with double its dimensions and ten times its elaboration, produces no effect externally, and internally can only be seen in detail, so that the parts hardly in any instance aid one another in producing the effect aimed at.

200. Plan of Great Temple at Ramisseram. Scale 170 ft. to 1 in.

{357}

The only part of the temple which is of a different age from the rest is a small vimana, of very elegant proportions, that stands in the garden, on the right hand of the visitor as he enters from the west[385] (D). It has, however, been so long exposed—like the temple on the shore at Mahavellipore—to the action of the sea-air, that its details are so corroded they cannot now be made out, and its age cannot consequently be ascertained from them. It is safe, however, to assert that it is more modern than any of the rock-cut examples above quoted; possibly it may be of the 11th or 12th century. Its dimensions may be guessed as 50 ft. in height, by 30 ft. or 40 ft. in plan, so that it hardly forms a feature in so large a temple. From the four bulls that occupy the platform under the dome, it is evident it was originally dedicated to Siva, as the whole temple now apparently is, though the scene of Rama’s most celebrated exploit, and bearing his name.

Externally the temple is enclosed by a wall 20 ft. in height, and possessing four gopuras, one on each face, which have this peculiarity, that they alone, of all those I know in India, are built wholly of stone from the base to the summit. The western one (D) alone, however, is finished, and owing apparently to the accident of its being in stone, it is devoid of figure-sculpture—some half-dozen plaster casts that now adorn it having been added quite recently. Those on the north and south (A and C) are hardly higher than the wall in which they stand, and are consequently called the ruined gateways. Such a thing is, however, so far as I know, unknown in southern India. Partly from their form, and more from the solidity of their construction, nothing but an earthquake could well damage them, and their age is not such as would superinduce ruin from decay of material. These, in fact, have never been raised higher, and their progress was probably stopped in the beginning of the last century, when Mahomedan, Mahratta, and other foreign invaders checked the prosperity of the land, and destroyed the wealth of the priesthood. The eastern façade has two entrances and two gopuras. The smaller, not shown in the plan, is finished. The larger one (B in the plan) never was carried higher than we now see it. Had it been finished,[386] it would have been one of the largest of its class, and being wholly in stone, and consequently without its outline being broken by sculpture, it would have reproduced more nearly the effect of an Egyptian propylon than any other example of its class in India.{358}

The glory, however, of this temple resides in its corridors. These, as will be seen by the plan, extend to nearly 4000 feet in length. The breadth varies from 20 ft. to 30 ft. of free floor space, and their height is apparently about 30 ft. from the floor to the centre of the roof. Each pillar or pier is compound, and richer and more elaborate in design than those of the Parvati porch at Chillambaram (Woodcut No. 197), and are certainly more modern in date.

201. Central Corridor, Ramisseram. (From a Photograph.)

The general appearance of these corridors may be gathered from the annexed woodcut (No. 201), but no engraving, even on a much more extended scale, can convey the impression produced by such a display of labour when extended to an uninterrupted length of 700 ft. None of our cathedrals are more than 500 ft., and even the nave of St. Peter’s is only 600 ft. from the door to the apse. Here the side corridors are 700 ft. long, and open into transverse galleries as rich in detail as themselves. These, with the varied devices and modes of lighting, produce an effect that is not equalled certainly anywhere in India. The side corridors are generally free from figure-sculpture, and consequently, from much of the vulgarity of the age to which they belong, and, though narrower, produce a more pleasing effect. The central corridor leading from the sanctuary is adorned on one side by portraits of the rajas of Ramnad in the 17th century, and opposite them, of their secretaries. Even they, however, would be tolerable, were it not that within the last few years they have been{359} painted with a vulgarity that is inconceivable on the part of the descendants of those who built this fane. Not only they, however, but the whole of the architecture has first been dosed with repeated coats of whitewash, so as to take off all the sharpness of detail, and then painted with blue, green, red, and yellow washes, so as to disfigure and destroy its effect to an extent that must be seen to be believed. Nothing can more painfully prove the degradation to which our system has reduced the population than this profanity. No upper class, and consequently no refinement, now remains, and the priesthood, instead of being high bred and intellectual Brahmans, must be sunk into a state of debasement from which nothing can now probably redeem them.

Assuming, however, for the nonce, that this painting never had been perpetrated, still the art displayed here would be very inferior to that of such a temple as, for instance, Hullabîd, in the Mysore, to be described further on. The perimeter, however, of that temple is only 700 ft.; here we have corridors extending to 4000 ft., carved on both sides, and in the hardest granite. It is the immensity of the labour here displayed that impresses us, much more than its quality, and that, combined with a certain picturesqueness and mystery, does produce an effect which is not surpassed by any other temple in India, and by very few elsewhere.

The age of this temple is hardly doubtful. From first to last its style—excepting the old vimana—is so uniform and unaltered that its erection could hardly have lasted during a hundred years, and if this is so, it must have been during the 17th century, when the Ramnad rajas were at the height of their independence and prosperity, and when their ally or master, Tirumulla Nayak, was erecting buildings in the same identical style at Mádura. It may have been commenced fifty years earlier (1550), and the erection of its gopuras may have extended into the 18th century, but these seem the possible limits of deviation. Being so recent, any one on the spot could easily ascertain the facts. They could indeed be determined very nearly from the photographs, were it not for the whitewash and paint, which so disfigure the details as to make them almost unrecognisable.

Mádura.

If the native authorities consulted by the late Professor Wilson in compiling his Historical sketch of the Kingdom of Pándya could be relied upon, it would seem that the foundation of the dynasty ought to be placed some five or six centuries before the Christian Era.[387] Even, however, if this is disputed, the fact of the southern part of{360} the Peninsula being described as the “Regio Pandionis” by classical authorities is sufficient to prove that a kingdom bearing that name did exist there in the early centuries of the Christian Era. Their first capitals, however, seem to have been Kurkhi, possibly the Kolkhi of the Periplus, near Ramnad, and Kalyana, near Cape Comorin. The story of Kula Sekhara founding Mádura, and the fabulous incidents with which the tale is adorned, is one of the favourite legends of the south, and is abundantly illustrated in sculptures of Tirumulla Nayak’s choultrie and in other buildings of the capital.

For our present purposes it is hardly worth while to attempt to investigate the succession of the dates of the seventy-three kings who are said to have succeeded one another before the accession of the Nayak or Naik dynasty, in 1532, inasmuch as no building is now known to exist in the kingdom that can claim, even on the most shadowy grounds, to have been erected by any of these kings. It may have been that, anterior to the rise of the great Chola dynasty, in the 10th and 11th century, that of Mádura may have had a long period of prosperity and power; but certain it is, that if they did build anything of importance, its existence cannot now be identified. After that, for a while they seem to have been subjected to the Bellala dynasty of the Mysore, and the same Mahomedan invasion that destroyed that power in 1310 spread its baneful influence as far as Ramnad, and for two centuries their raids and oppressions kept the whole of southern India in a state of anarchy and confusion. Their power for evil was first checked by the rise of the great Hindu state of Vijayanagar, in the Tongabhadra, in the 14th century, and by the establishment, under its protection, of the Nayak dynasty by Viswanath Nayak, in the beginning of the 16th. After lasting 210 years, the last sovereign of the race—a queen—was first aided, and then betrayed, by Chanda Sahib the Nawaub of the Carnatic, who plays so important a part in our wars with the French in these parts.

It may be—indeed, probably is the case—that there are temples in the provinces that were erected before the rise of the Nayak dynasty, but certain it is that all those in the capital, with the great temple at Seringham, described above, were erected during the two centuries of their supremacy, and of those in the capital nine-tenths at least were erected during the long and prosperous reign of the tenth king of this dynasty, Tirumulla Nayak, or as he is more popularly known, Trimul Naik, who reigned from 1621 to 1657.[388]

Of his buildings, the most important, for our purposes[389] at least, is{361}

202. Plan of Tirumulla Nayak’s Choultrie. (From a Drawing in the possession of the Royal Asiatic Society.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in. | 203. Pillar in Tirumulla Nayak’s Choultrie. (From a Drawing in the possession of the Royal Asiatic Society.)

the celebrated choultrie which he built for the reception of the presiding deity of the place, who consented to leave his dark cell in the temple and pay the king an annual visit of ten days’ duration, on condition of his building a hall worthy of his dignity, and where he could receive in a suitable manner the homage of the king and his subjects. As will be seen from the plan (Woodcut No. 202) the hall is 333 ft. long by 105 ft. in width, measured on the stylobate, and consists of four ranges of columns, all of which are different, and all most elaborately sculptured. An elevation of one is given (Woodcut No. 203), but is not so rich as those of the centre, which have life-{362}sized figures attached to them, and are even more elaborate in their details. In this instance it will be observed that the detached bracketing shaft at Chillambaram has become attached to the square central pier, and instead of the light elegance that characterised that example, has become a solid pier, five or six feet in depth—richer certainly, but far from being either so elegant or so appropriate as the earlier example.

The view of the interior (Woodcut No. 204) gives some, but only a faint, idea of the effect. The sides are now closed with screens, and it is difficult to procure good photographs; but in effect, as in detail, it is identical with the corridors at Ramisseram, where the light is abundant.

As the date of this hall is perfectly well known—it took twenty-two years to erect it, 1623 to 1645—it becomes a fixed point in our chronology of the style. We can, for instance, assert with perfect certainty that the porch to Parvati’s shrine at Chillambaram (Woodcut No. 197) is certainly anterior to this, probably by a couple of centuries, and, with equal certainty that the corridors at Ramisseram are contemporary. From the history of the period we learn that the rajas of Ramnad were at times independent, at others at war with the Nayaks; but in Tirumulla Nayak’s time either his allies or dependants; and the style and design of the two buildings are so absolutely identical that they must belong to the same age. It is, indeed, most probable that the king of Mádura may have assisted in the erection of the temple. If he had indeed been allowed any share in making the original design, the temple would probably have been a nobler building than it is; for, though the details are the same, his three-aisled hall leading to the sanctuary would have been a far grander feature architecturally than the singled-aisled corridors that lead nowhere. The expense of one of the single-aisled corridors at Ramisseram, 700 ft. long, would have been about the same as the triple-aisled choultrie at Mádura, which is half their length. If, consequently, the choultrie cost a million sterling—as is confidently asserted—the temple must have cost between three and four millions; and such an estimate hardly seems excessive when we consider the amount of labour expended on it, and that the material in both is the hardest granite.

The façade of this hall, like that of almost all the great halls in the south of India, is adorned either with Yalis—monsters of the lion type trampling on an elephant—or, even more generally, by a group consisting of a warrior sitting on a rearing horse, whose feet are supported on the shields of foot soldiers, sometimes slaying men, sometimes tigers. These groups are found literally in hundreds in southern India, and, as works exhibiting difficulties overcome by patient labour, they are unrivalled, so far as I know, by anything found elsewhere. As works of art, they are the most barbarous, it may be said the most{363}

204. View in Tirumulla Nayak’s Choultrie, Mádura. (From a Photograph.)

vulgar, to be found in India, and do more to shake one’s faith in the civilization of the people who produced them than anything they did in any other department of art. Where these monstrosities are not introduced, the pillars of entrances are only enriched a little more{364} than those of the interior, when the ornamentation is in better taste, and generally quite sufficiently rich for its purpose.

Immediately in front of his choultrie, Tirumulla Nayak commenced a gopura, which, had he lived to complete it, would probably have been the finest edifice of its class in southern India. It measures 174 ft. from north to south, and 107[390] ft. in depth. The entrance through it is 21 ft. 9 in. wide; and if it be true that its gateposts are 60 ft. (Tripe says 57 ft.) in height, that would have been the height of the opening.[391] It will thus be seen that it was designed on even a larger scale than that at Seringham, described above, and it certainly far surpasses that celebrated edifice in the beauty of its details. Its doorposts alone, whether 57 ft. or 60 ft. in height, are single blocks of granite, carved with the most exquisite scroll patterns of elaborate foliage, and all the other carvings are equally beautiful. Being unfinished, and consequently never consecrated, it has escaped whitewash, and alone, of all the buildings of Mádura, its beauties can still be admired in their original perfection.

The great temple at Mádura is a larger and far more important building than the choultrie; but, somehow or other, it has not attracted the attention of travellers to the same extent that the latter has. No one has ever attempted to make a plan of it, or to describe it in such detail as would enable others to understand its peculiarities. It possesses, however, all the characteristics of a first-class Dravidian temple, and, as its date is perfectly well known, it forms a landmark of the utmost value in enabling us to fix the relative date of other temples.

The sanctuary is said to have been built by Viswanath, the first king of the Nayak dynasty, A.D. 1520, which may possibly be the case; but the temple itself certainly owes all its magnificence to Tirumulla Nayak, A.D. 1622-1657, or to his elder brother, Muttu Virappa, who preceded him, and who built a mantapa, said to be the oldest thing now existing here. The Kalyana mantapa is said to have been built A.D. 1707, and the Tatta Suddhi in 1770. These, however, are insignificant parts compared with those which certainly owe their origin to Tirumulla Nayak.

The temple itself is a nearly regular rectangle, two of its sides measuring 720 ft. and 729 ft., the other two 834 ft. and 852 ft. It possessed four gopuras of the first class, and five smaller ones; a very beautiful tank, surrounded by arcades; and a hall of 1000 columns, whose sculptures surpass those of any other hall of its class I am acquainted with. There is a small shrine, dedicated to the goddess{365} Minakshi, the tutelary deity of the place, which occupies the space of fifteen columns, so the real number is only 985; but it is not their number but their marvellous elaboration that makes it the wonder of the place, and renders it, in some respects, more remarkable than the choultrie about which so much has been said and written. I do not feel sure that this hall alone is not a greater work than the choultrie; taken in conjunction with the other buildings of the temple, it certainly forms a far more imposing group.

As mentioned above, the great Vaishnava temple at Seringham owes all its magnificence to buildings erected during the reign of the Nayak dynasty, whose second capital was Trichinopoly, and where they often resided. Within a mile, however, of that much-lauded temple is another, dedicated to Siva, under the title of Jumbúkeswara, which, though not so large as that dedicated to Sri Rangam, far surpasses it in beauty as an architectural object. The first gateway of the outer enclosure is not large, but it leads direct to the centre of a hall containing some 400 pillars. On the right these open on a tank fed by a perpetual spring, which is one of the wonders of the place.[392] The corresponding space on the left was intended to be occupied by the 600 columns requisite to make up the 1000, but this never was completed. Between the two gopuras of the second enclosure is a very beautiful portico of cruciform shape, leading to the door of the sanctuary, which, however, makes no show externally, and access to its interior is not vouchsafed to the profane.[393] The age of this temple is the same as that of its great rival, except that, being all of one design, it probably was begun and completed at once, and from the simplicity of its parts and details may be earlier than the great buildings of Tirumulla Nayak. If we assume A.D. 1600, with a margin of ten or fifteen years either way, we shall probably not err much in its date.

One of the great charms of this temple, when I visited it, was its purity. Neither whitewash nor red nor yellow paint had then sullied it, and the time-stain on the warm-coloured granite was all that relieved its monotony; but it sufficed, and it was a relief to contemplate it thus after some of the vulgarities I had seen. Now all this is altered. Like the pagodas at Ramisseram, and more so those at Mádura, barbarous vulgarity has done its worst, and the traveller is only too fully justified in the contempt with which he speaks of these works of a great people which have fallen into the hands of such unworthy successors.{366}

Tinnevelly.

205. Half-plan of Temple at Tinnevelly. (From a Plan in the possession of the Royal Asiatic Society.)

Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

Though neither among the largest nor the most splendid temples of southern India, that at Tinnevelly will serve to give a good general{367} idea of the arrangement of these edifices, and has the advantage of having been built on one plan, and at one time, without subsequent alteration or change. Like the little cell in the Tiruvalur temple (Woodcut No. 193), it has the singularity of being a double temple, the great square being divided into equal portions, of which one is dedicated to the god Siva, the other to his consort Parvati. The preceding plan (Woodcut No. 205) represents one of the halves, which, though differing in arrangement from the other, is still so like it as to make the representation and description of one sufficient for both.

The general dimensions of the whole enclosure are 508 ft. by 756 ft., the larger dimension being divided into two equal portions of 378 ft. each. There are three gateways to each half, and one in the wall dividing the two; the principal gateway faces the entrance to the temple, and the lateral ones are opposite each other. An outer portico precedes the great gateway, leading internally to a very splendid porch, which, before reaching the gateway of the inner enclosure, branches off on the right to the intermediate gateway, and on the left to the great hall of 1000 columns—10 pillars in width by 100 in depth.

The inner enclosure is not concentric with the outer, and, as usual, has only one gateway. The temple itself consists of a cubical cell, surmounted by a vimana or spire, preceded by two porches, and surrounded by triple colonnades. In other parts of the enclosure are smaller temples, tanks of water, gardens, colonnades, &c., but neither so numerous nor so various as are generally found in Indian temples of this class.

The great 1000-pillared portico in the temple is one of the least poetic of its class in India. It consists of a regiment of pillars 10 deep and extending to 100 in length, without any break or any open space or arrangement. Such a forest of pillars does, no doubt, produce a certain effect; but half that number, if arranged as in some of the Chalukyan or Jaina temples, would produce a far nobler impression. The aim of the Dravidians seems to have been to force admiration by the mere exhibition of inordinate patient toil.

Combaconum.

If the traditions of the natives could be trusted, Combaconum—one of the old capitals of the Chola dynasty—is one of the places where we might hope to find something very ancient. There are fragments of older temples, indeed, to be found everywhere, but none in situ. All the older buildings seem to have been at some time ruined and rebuilt, probably on the same site, but with that total disregard to antiquity which is characteristic of the Hindus in all ages. One portico, in a temple dedicated to Sri Rama, is very like that leading{368}

206. Gopura at Combaconum. (From a Photograph.)

{369}

from the second to the third gopura in the temple of Jumbúkeswara, described above, but, if anything, it is slightly more modern. There is also one fine gopura in the town, represented in the last woodcut (No. 206). It is small, however, in comparison with those we have just been describing, being only 84 ft. across and about 130 ft. in height. Those of Seringham and Mádura have, or were intended to have, at least double these dimensions.

It is, however, a richly-ornamented example of its class, and the preceding woodcut conveys a fair impression of the effect of these buildings generally. It is not old enough to be quite of the best age, but it is still not so modern as to have lost all the character and expression of the earlier examples.

Conjeveram.

Conjeveram is another city where tradition would lead us to expect more of antiquity than in almost any city of the south. It is said to have been founded by Adondai, the illegitimate son of Kolotunga Chola, in the 11th or 12th century, and to have succeeded Combaconum as the capital of the Chola Mandalam. Even before this, however, it is supposed to have been inhabited by Buddhists,[394] and that they were succeeded by Jains. If this is so, all that can be said is, that neither of these religions have left any traces of their existence on the spot, and many passages in the Mackenzie MSS. would lead us to suppose that it was a jungle inhabited by savage Kurumbars when the Cholas took possession of it.

Be this as it may, the two towns, Great and Little Conjeveram, possess groups of temples as picturesque and nearly as vast as any to be found elsewhere. The great temple at the first-named place possesses some first-class gopuras, though no commanding vimana. It has, too, a hall of 1000 columns, several large and fine mantapas, large tanks with flights of stone steps, and all the requisites of a first-class Dravidian temple, but all thrown together as if by accident. No two gopuras are opposite one another, no two walls parallel, and there is hardly a right angle about the place. All this creates a picturesqueness of effect seldom surpassed in these temples, but deprives it of that dignity we might expect from such parts if properly arranged.

There may be some part I did not see[395] which may be older, but certainly none of the principal buildings are so old as Parvati’s shrine at Chillambaram, but all seem equally to be anterior to the great building epoch of the Nayak dynasty. They probably are the last{370} efforts of the Cholas; but here, again, whitewash and red paint have done so much to obliterate the record, that it is not safe to dogmatise regarding the age of any buildings in either of the two Conjeverams.

Vellore and Peroor.

Although the temples at Vellore and at Peroor, near Coimbatore, can only rank among the second class as regards size, they possess porticos of extreme interest to architectural history, and are consequently worthy of more attention than has been bestowed upon them. That at Vellore, however, is unfortunately situated in the fort occupied by the British, and has consequently been utilised as a store. Walls have been built between its piers, and whitewash and fittings have reduced it to that condition which we think appropriate for the noblest works of art in India. Enough, however, still remains to enable us to see that it is one of the most elegant as well as one of the oldest porches or mantapas in the south. As will be seen from the woodcut (No. 207), the Yalis and rearing horsemen are clearly and sharply cut, and far from being so extravagant as they sometimes are. The great cornice too, with its double flexures and its little trellice-work of supports, is not only very elegant in form, but one of those marvels of patient industry, such as are to be found hardly anywhere else. There are many such cornices, however, in the south: one at Avadea Covill is deeper and more elaborate than even this one. The outer facing there is said to be only about an inch in thickness, and its network of supports is more elaborate and more delicate than those at Vellore, though it is difficult to understand how either was ever executed in so hard a material. The traditions of the place assign the erection of the Vellore porch to the year 1350, and though this is perhaps being too precise, it is not far from the truth. The bracket shafts (Woodcut No. 208) are similar but even more elegant than those in Parvati’s porch at Chillambaram; but they are—some of them at least—attached to the pier by very elegant open-work, such as is found in Pratapa Rudra’s temple at Worangul (Woodcut No. 217) or in the windows at Hullabîd. As both these examples are earlier than 1300, it might seem that this one was so also, but it is difficult to feel certain when comparing buildings so distant in locality, and belonging to different styles of art. On the whole, however, I am inclined to believe that between 1300 and 1400 will be found the true date of this porch.

The date of the porch at Peroor is ascertained within narrow limits by the figure of a Sepoy loading a musket being carved on the base of one of its pillars, and his costume and the shape of his arm are exactly those we find in contemporary pictures of the wars of Aurungzebe, or the early Mahrattas, in the beginning of the 18th{371} century. As shown in Woodcut No. 209, the bracket shafts are there attached to the piers as in Tirumulla Nayak’s buildings, and though the general character of the architecture is the same, there is a coarseness in the details, and a marked inferiority in the figure-sculpture, that betrays the distance of date between these two examples.

207. Portico of Temple at Vellore.

Slight as the difference may appear to the unpractised eye, it is within the four centuries that include the dates of these two buildings {372}(1350 to 1750) that practically the whole history of the Dravidian

208. Compound Pillar at Vellore. (From a Photograph.) | 209. Compound Pillar at Peroor. (From a Photograph.)

{373}

temple architecture is included. There are rock-cut examples before the first date, and some structural buildings in Dharwar on a smaller scale, which are older, but it is safe to assert that nine-tenths, at least, or more, of those which are found south of the Tongabhadra, were erected between these dates.

Of course it is not meant to assert that, before the first of these dates, there were not structural temples in the south of India. So far from this being the case, it seems nearly certain that during the six or seven centuries that elapsed between the carving of the rocks at Mahavellipore and the erection of the Vellore pagoda, numerous buildings must have been erected in order that a style should be elaborated and so fixed that it should endure for five centuries afterwards, with so little change, and with only that degradation in detail, which is the fatal characteristic of art in India.

It seems impossible that the horsemen, the Yalis, and above all, the great cornice of double curvature, shown in the woodcut (No. 207), could have been brought to these fixed forms without long experience, and the difficulty is to understand how they could ever have been elaborated in stone at all, as they are so unlike lithic forms found anywhere else; yet they are not wooden, nor is there any trace in them of any of their details being derived from wooden architecture, as is so evidently the case with the Buddhist architecture of the north. The one suggestion that occurs to me is that they are derived from terra-cotta forms. Frequently, at the present day, figures of men on horseback larger than life, or of giants on foot, are seen near the village temples made of pottery, their hollow forms of burnt clay, and so burnt as to form a perfect terra-cotta substance. Most of the figures also on the gopuras are not in plaster as is generally said, but are also formed of clay burnt. The art has certainly been long practised in the south, and if we adopt the theory that it was used for many ornamental purposes before wood or stone, it will account for much that is otherwise unintelligible in the arts of the south.

Vijayanagar.

The dates just quoted will no doubt sound strange and prosaic to those who are accustomed to listen to the childish exaggerations of the Brahmans in speaking of the age of their temples. There is, however, luckily a test besides the evidence above quoted, which, if it could be perfectly applied, would settle the question at once.

When in the beginning of the 14th century the Mahomedans from Delhi first made their power seriously felt in the south, they struck down the kingdom of the Hoisala Bellalas in 1310, and destroyed their capital of Hullabîd; and in 1322 Worangul, which had been previously attacked, was finally destroyed, and it is said they then{374} carried their victorious arms as far as Ramnad. The Mahomedans did not, however, at that time make any permanent settlement in the south, and the consequence was, that as soon as the Hindus were able to recover from the panic, Bukka and Harihara, princes it is said of the deposed house of Worangul, gathered around them the remnants of the destroyed states, and founded a new state in the town of Vijayanagar on the Tongabhadra. An earlier city it is said had been founded there in 1118, by a Vijaya Rayal, but only as a dependency of the Mysore Raj, and there is consequently no reason for supposing that any of the buildings in the city belong to that period, nor indeed till the new dynasty founded by Bukka had consolidated its power, which was certainly not before the beginning of the 15th century.

The city was finally destroyed by the Mahomedans in 1565, but during the two previous centuries it maintained a gallant struggle against the Bahmuny and Adil Shahi dynasties of Kalburgah and Bijapur, and was in fact the barrier that prevented the Moslems from taking possession of the whole country as far as Cape Comorin.

Its time of greatest prosperity was between the accession of Krishna Deva, 1508, and the death of Achutya Rayal, 1542, and it is to their reigns that the finest monuments in the city must be ascribed. There is, perhaps, no other city in all India in which ruins exist in such profusion or in such variety as in Vijayanagar, and as they are all certainly comprised within the century and a half, or at the utmost the two centuries, that preceded the destruction of the city, their analogies afford us dates that hardly admit of dispute.

Among those in the city the most remarkable is that dedicated to Vitoba, a local manifestation of Vishnu. It was erected by Achutya Rayal, A.D. 1529-1542, and never was finished; and if it were not that no successor ever cares in India to complete the works begun by his predecessor, we might fancy the works were interrupted by the siege. The principal part of the temple consists of a porch, represented in the annexed woodcut (No. 210). It is wholly in granite, and carved with a boldness and expression of power nowhere surpassed in the buildings of its class.[396] As will be observed, it has all the characteristic peculiarities of the Dravidian style: the bold cornice of double flexure, the detached shafts, the Yalis, the richly-carved stylobate, &c. But what interests us most here is that it forms an exact half-way house in style between such porches as those at Vellore and Chillambaram, and that of Tirumulla Nayak at Mádura. The bracket shafts are detached here, it is true, but they are mere ornaments, and have lost their meaning. The cornice is as bold as any, but has lost its characteristic{375} supports, and other changes have been made, which would inevitably have led in a short time to the new style of the Nayak dynasty.

210. View of Porch of Temple of Vitoba at Vijayanagar. (From a Photograph by Mr. Neill.)

The little building on the right is the car of the god, formed of a single block of granite, with movable wheels, but they are the only parts that move. There are, besides, either one or two pavilions, smaller, but similar in design to that represented in the woodcut, a gopura, and other adjuncts, which would be interesting, if we had the means of comparing and describing them.

Although the temple of Vitoba is certainly one of the most remarkable ruins in India, and there are other temples of great beauty and extent in the capital, it is not quite clear that it is there the chefs-d’œuvre of this dynasty are to be found, but rather at a place called Tarputry, about one hundred miles a little east of south from the capital. There are two temples there: the one now in use, dedicated to Vishnu, is the elder, and in so far as whitewash and paint will allow one to judge, ranges with the works of the earliest kings of the Vijayanagar dynasty; but the wonders of the place are two gopuras belonging to a now deserted temple on the banks of the river, about a quarter of a mile from the others. One of these was apparently quite finished, the other never carried higher than the perpendicular part. In almost all the gopuras of India this part is comparatively plain, all the figure-sculpture and ornament being reserved for the upper or pyramidal part. In this instance, however, the whole of the perpendicular part is covered with the most elaborate sculpture, cut with exquisite sharpness and precision, in a fine close-grained hornblende (?) stone, and produces an effect richer, and on the whole perhaps in{376}

211. Entrance through Gopura at Tarputry. (From a Photograph.)

{377}

212. Portion of Gopura at Tarputry. (From a Photograph.)

{378}

better taste, than anything else in this style (Woodcuts Nos. 211, 212). It is difficult of course to institute a comparison between these gopuras and such works as Tirumulla Nayak’s choultrie, or the corridors at Ramisseram; they are so different that there is no common basis of comparison but the vulgar one of cost; but if compared with Hullabîd or Baillûr, these Tarputry gopuras stand that test better than any other works of the Vijayanagar Rajas. They are inferior, but not so much so as one would expect from the two centuries of decadence that elapsed between them, and they certainly show a marked superiority over the great unfinished gopura of Tirumulla Nayak, which was commenced, as nearly as may be, one century afterwards.

About fifty miles still further east, at a place called Diggu Hublum, there is a large unfinished mantapa, in plan and design very like that of the temple of Vitoba at Vijayanagar, but its style and details are so much more like those of the Nayaks, that it must be at least a century more modern, and could not therefore have been erected before the destruction of that capital in A.D. 1565. The dynasty, however, continued to exist for one or two centuries after that time, till the country was finally conquered by Tipu Sultan. It must have been by one of the expatriated rajas that this temple was erected, but by whom even tradition is silent. Whoever may have built it, it is a fine bold specimen of architecture, and if the history of the art in the south of India is ever seriously taken up, it will worthily take a place in the series as one of the best specimens of its age, wanting the delicacy and elegance of the earlier examples, but full of character and merit.[397]

Conclusion.

The buildings mentioned, and more or less perfectly described, in the preceding pages are in number rather more than one-third of the great Dravidian temples known to exist in the province. In importance and extent they certainly are, however, more than one-half. Of the remainder, none have vimanas, like that of Tanjore,{379} nor corridors, like those of Ramisseram; but several have gopuras quite equal to or exceeding those mentioned above, and many have mantapas of great beauty and extent. Several—such as Avadea Covill, Veeringepuram, Taramungulam, and others—possess features unsurpassed by any in the south, especially the first-named, which may, perhaps, be considered as one of the most elegant of its class, as well as one of the oldest. It would, however, be only tedious to attempt to describe them without plans to refer to, or more extensive illustrations than are compatible with a work of this class. They are, however, worthy of more attention than has been paid to them, and of more complete illustration than has hitherto been bestowed upon them. Taken altogether, they certainly do form as extensive, and in some respects as remarkable, a group of buildings as are to be found in provinces of similar extent in any part of the world—Egypt, perhaps, alone excepted; but they equal even the Egyptian in extent, and though at first sight so different, in some respects present similarities which are startling. Without attempting to enumerate the whole, it may be mentioned that the gopuras, both in form and purpose, resemble the pylons of the Egyptian temples. The courts with pillars and cloisters are common to both, and very similar in arrangement and extent. The great mantapas and halls of 1000 columns reproduce the hypostyle halls, both in purpose and effect, with almost minute accuracy. The absence of any central tower or vimana over the sanctuary is universal in Egypt, and only conspicuously violated in one instance in India. Their mode of aggregation, and the amount of labour bestowed upon them for labour’s sake, is only too characteristic of both styles. There are, besides, many similarities that will occur to any one familiar with both styles.

Is all this accidental? It seems strange that so many coincidences should be fortuitous, but, so far as history affords us any information, or as any direct communication can be traced, we must for the present answer that it is so. The interval of time is so great, and the mode in which we fancy we can trace the native growth of most of the features in India seem to negative the idea of an importation; but there certainly was intercourse between Egypt and India in remote ages, and seed may then have been sown which fructified long afterwards.

If we were to trust, however, to either tradition or to mythological or ethnological coincidences, it is rather to Babylonia than to Egypt that we should look for the incunabula of what are found in southern India. But here the architectural argument is far from having the same distinctness; and, in fact, whichever way we turn, we are forced to confess that these problems are not yet ripe for solution, though enough is known to encourage the hope that the time is not distant when materials will be gathered that will make all clear.{380}

## CHAPTER IV.
CIVIL ARCHITECTURE.

CONTENTS.

Palaces at Mádura and Tanjore—Garden Pavilion at Vijayanagar.

Although, like all nations of Turanian race, the Dravidians were extensive and enthusiastic builders, it is somewhat singular that till they came in contact with the Mahomedans all their efforts in this direction should have been devoted to the service of religion. No trace of any civil or municipal building is to be found anywhere, though from the stage of civilization that they had attained it might be expected that such must have existed. What is, however, even more remarkable is, that kingdoms always at war with one another, and contending for supremacy within a limited area, might have been expected to develop some sort of military architecture. So far, however, as is now known, no castle or fortification of any sort dates from the Pandya, Chera, or Chola days. What is still more singular in a people of Turanian blood is, that they have no tombs. They seem always to have burnt their dead, and never to have collected their ashes or raised any mounds or memorials to their departed friends or great men. There are, it is true, numberless “Rude stone monuments” all over the south of India, but, till they are more thoroughly investigated, it is impossible to say whether they belong to the Dravidians when in a lower stage of civilization than when they became temple builders, or whether they belong to other underlying races who still exist, in scattered fragments, all over the south of India, in a state bordering on that of savages.[398] Whoever these Dolmens or stone circles may have belonged to, we know, at least, that they never were developed into architectural objects, such as would bring them within the scope of this work. No Dravidian tomb or cenotaph is known to exist anywhere.

When, however, the Dravidians came in contact with the Mussulmans this state of affairs was entirely altered, in so far, at least, as civil buildings were concerned. The palaces, the kutcherries, the{381} elephant-stables, and the dependencies of the abodes of the rajas at Vijayanagar and Mádura, rival in extent and in splendour the temples themselves, and are not surpassed in magnificence by the Mahomedan palaces of Bijapur or Bidar.

One of the most interesting peculiarities of these civil buildings is, that they are all in a new and different style of architecture from that employed in the temples, and the distinction between the civil and religious art is kept up to the present day. The civil buildings are all in what we would call a pointed-arched Moorish style—picturesque in effect, if not always in the best taste, and using the arch everywhere and for every purpose. In the temples the arch is never used as an architectural feature. In some places, in modern times, when they wanted a larger internal space than could be obtained by bracketing without great expense, a brick vault was introduced,—it may be said surreptitiously—for it is always concealed. Even now, in building gopuras, they employ wooden beams, supported by pillars, as lintels, to cover the central openings in the upper pyramidal part, and this having decayed, many of the most modern exhibit symptoms of decay which are not observable in the older examples, where a stone lintel always was employed. But it is not only in construction that the Dravidians adhere to their old forms in temples. There are, especially, some gopuras erected within the limits of this century, and erecting even now, which it requires a practised eye to distinguish from older examples; but with the civil buildings the case is quite different. It is not, indeed, clear how a convenient palace could be erected in the trabeate style of the temples, unless, indeed, wood was very extensively employed, both in the supports and the roofs. My conviction is, that this really was the case, and its being so, to a great extent, at least, accounts for their disappearance.

The principal apartments in the palace at Mádura are situated round a courtyard which measures 244 ft. east and west by 142 ft. north and south, surrounded on all sides by arcades of very great beauty. The pillars which support the arches are of stone, 40 ft. in height, and are joined by foliated brick arcades of great elegance of design. The whole of the ornamentation is worked out in the exquisitely fine stucco called “chunan,” or shell lime, which is a characteristic of the Madras Presidency.[399] On one side of the court stands the Swerga Vilasam, or Celestial Pavilion, formerly the throne-room of the palace, now used by the High Court of{382}

213. Hall in Palace, Mádura. (From Daniell’s ‘Views in Hindostan.’)

Justice. It is an arcaded octagon, covered by a dome 60 ft. in diameter and 60 ft. in height. On another side of this court is placed the splendid hall shown in the annexed woodcut (No. 213), the two corresponding with the Dewanni Khas and Dewanni Aum of Mahomedan palaces. This one, in its glory, must have been as fine as any, barring the material. The hall itself is said to be 120 ft. long by 67 ft. wide,[400] and its height to the centre of the roof is 70 ft.; but, what is more important than its dimensions, it possesses all the structural propriety and character of a Gothic building. It is evident that if the Hindus had persevered a little longer in this direction they might have accomplished something that would have surpassed the works of their masters in this form of art. In the meanwhile it is curious to observe that the same king who built the choultries (Woodcuts Nos. 202, 203 and 204) built also this hall. The style of the one is as different from that of the other as Classic Italian from Mediæval Gothic: the one as much over ornamented as the other is too plain for the purposes of a palace,{383} but both among the best things of their class which have been built in the country where they are found.

214. Court in Palace, Tanjore. (From a Photograph.)

The modern dynasty of Tanjore was founded by Eccoji, a brother of Sivagi, the great Máhratta chief, during the decline of the Mádura{384} dynasty in 1675. The palace was probably commenced shortly afterwards, but the greater part of its buildings belong to the 18th century, and some extend even into the 19th.

It is not unlike the Mádura palace in arrangement—is, indeed, evidently copied from it—nor very different in style; but the ornamentation is coarser and in more vulgar taste, as might be expected from our knowledge of the people who erected it (Woodcut No. 214). In some of the apartments this is carried so far as to become almost offensive. One of the most striking peculiarities of the palace is the roof of the great hall externally. As you approach Tanjore, you see two great vimanas, not unlike each other in dimensions or outline, and at a distance can hardly distinguish which belongs to the great temple. On closer inspection, however, that of the palace turns out to be made up of dumpy pilasters and fat balusters, and ill-designed mouldings of Italian architecture, mixed up with a few details of Indian art! A more curious and tasteless jumble can hardly be found in Calcutta or Lucknow.

215. Garden Pavilion at Vijayanagar. (From a Photograph.)

The palace buildings at Vijayanagar are much more detached and scattered than those either at Tanjore or Mádura, but they are older, and probably reproduce more nearly the arrangements of a Hindu prince’s residence, before they fell completely under the sway of{385} Moslem influence. Practically the palace consists of a number of detached pavilions, baths, hareems, and other buildings, that may have been joined by wooden arcades. They certainly were situated in gardens, and may consequently have had a unity we miss in their present state of desolation. One of these pavilions is represented in the preceding woodcut (No. 215). It is a fair specimen of that picturesque mixed style which arose from the mixture of the Saracenic and Hindu styles.

Even this mixed style, however, died out wherever the Europeans settled, or their influence extended. The modern palaces of the Nawabs of the Carnatic, of the Rajas of Ramnad or Travancore, are all in the bastard Italian style, adopted by the Nawabs of Lucknow and the Babus of Calcutta. Sometimes, it must be confessed, the buildings are imposing from their mass, and picturesque from their variety of outline, but the details are always detestable, first from being bad copies of a style that was not understood or appreciated, but also generally from their being unsuited for the use to which they were applied. To these defects it must be added, that the whole style is generally characterised by a vulgarity it is difficult to understand in a people who have generally shown themselves capable of so much refinement in former times.

In some parts of the north of India matters have not sunk so low as in the Madras Presidency, but in the south civil architecture as a fine art is quite extinct, and though sacred architecture still survives in a certain queer, quaint form of temple-building, it is of so low a type that it would hardly be a matter of regret if it, too, ceased to exist, and the curtain dropped over the graves of both, as they are arts that practically have become extinct.{386}

## BOOK V.
CHALUKYAN STYLE.

## CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.

CONTENTS.

Temple at Buchropully—Kirti Stambha at Worangul—Temples at Somnathpûr and Baillûr—The Kait Iswara at Hullabîd—Temple at Hullabîd.

Of the three styles into which Hindu architecture naturally divides itself, the Chalukyan is neither the least extensive nor the least beautiful, but it certainly is the least known. The very name of the people was hardly recognised by early writers on Indian subjects, and the first clear ideas regarding them were put forward, in 1826, in a paper by Sir Walter Elliot, in the fourth volume of the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society.’ To this he added another paper, in the twentieth volume of the ‘Madras Journal:’ and since then numerous inscriptions of this dynasty and of its allied families have been found, and translated by General Le Grand, Jacob and others, in the ‘Bombay Journal,’ and by Professor Dowson in the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society’ here.[401]

From all this we gather that early in the sixth century of our era[402] this family rose into importance at Kalyan—in what is now the Nizam’s territory—and spread eastward as far as the shores of the Bay of Bengal, in the neighbourhood of the mouths of the Kistnah and Godavery. They extended, in fact, from shore to shore, right across the peninsula, and occupied a considerable portion of the country now known as Mysore, and northward extended as far, at least, as Dowlutabad.{387}

Beyond this, they seem to have been closely allied with the Ballabhi dynasty of Gujerat, and afterwards to be the parent stems from which the Hoisala Bellalas of Dwarasamudra took their rise.

Their affiliations and descents are more easily traced than their origin. Jaya Singa, the founder of the Kalyan dynasty (A.D. 500?), claims to be of the Solar race of Rajputs, and descended from kings reigning in Ayodhya 1000 years (fifty-nine generations) before his time. This, however, seems as likely to be a reminiscence of the origin of their religion as of their race; for, though we are not yet in a position to prove it, it seems likely that the Chalukyas were originally Jains. At all events, it seems clear that the extension of the Jaina religion is nearly conterminous with that of Chalukyan sway, and the time at which the religion spread over India was also coincident with their rise and fall.

It would, of course, be too much to assert that the Chalukyas were either the revivors of the Jaina faith or even its principal propagators; but, during the early part of their history, this form of faith is inextricably mixed up with the more orthodox religions as practised by them, and prevails to the present day, in the countries where they ruled. The style of architecture which they invented when Jains was, it is true, practised afterwards by them both as Vaishnavas and Saivas; but it seems to have had its origin in the earlier form of faith.

Like all dynasties of Central and Northern India, the Chalukyas suffered eclipse in the dark ages that intervened between A.D. 750 and 950;[403] and the difficulty is to know whether we have any temples in their style before that period. Those at Aiwulli and Purudkul described above (Woodcuts Nos. 121 and 189), belong to their age, and may have been erected by early kings of this race; but they do not belong to their style. Their sikras, or towers, either show the curvilinear outline of the northern style, or the storeyed pyramids of the Dravidians. It is as if this intrusive race adopted hesitatingly the styles of earlier inhabitants of the country, but that it was not till they had consolidated their power, and developed peculiar institutions of their own, that they expressed them in the style to which their name has been affixed.

It is more than probable that the materials exist for settling these and all other questions connected with this style; but, unfortunately, if it is so, they exist in the Nizam’s territory, and that is terra incognita to us in so far as architecture is concerned. No one has yet passed through it who had any knowledge of the art, or was even aware that any interest attached to the forms or age of the buildings. It thus happens that, but for a few stray photographs, it{388} must have been passed over as a style less known, from an artistic point of view, than that of almost any civilized country in the world. The rulers of the Hydrabad territory being bigoted Mahomedans, it is to be feared that great destruction of native temples may have taken place; but the real cause of our ignorance on the subject is the indifference and apathy to such matters in those who rule the rulers, and who, if they chose, could clear up the whole mystery in a few months or years, and with little expense to themselves, beyond expressing a wish that it should be done.

It may be, however, that the remains have perished. The line of Mahomedan capitals—Bijapur, Kalburgah, Bidar, and Hydrabad—which have long occupied the native country of the Chalukyas, is painfully suggestive of the destruction of Hindu temples; but still the wealth of remains that exists in Dharwar on the south and west, and the Berars on the north of the Nizam’s territories, is so great that all certainly cannot have perished, and many will probably be found to solve the historical enigmas, though they may not be sufficient to restore the style in its integrity.

Whether Kalyani itself has escaped is by no means clear. In a list of remains in the Bombay Presidency, prepared by Mr. Burgess, dated 1873, there are the following entries:—“Three miles to the south-east of town, some fine temples and other ruins;” and further on, on the authority of the late Bhau Daji, it is stated, “has extensive ruins for miles around. There are caves in the hills, called Hazar Khotri, or Thousand Chambers. Pir Padshah Musjid is probably part of a Hindu temple.” If this is so, the history of the style is probably all there, and only awaits the advent of some one capable of reading it.

The simplest and most typical example of the style that I know, and the one, consequently, which will serve best to explain its peculiarities, is at a place called Buchropully, not far from Hydrabad. It probably is also one of the oldest, and may even date before the cataclysm; but this is only a guess. I have no such real knowledge of the early form of the style as would enable me to feel sure on such a subject. As will be observed, the temple itself is polygonal, or star-shaped, of twenty-four sides (Woodcut No. 216). These, however, are not obtained, as in the northern style, by increments added flatly to a square, as will be explained hereafter, but are points touching a circle, in this instance apparently right angles, but afterwards were either more acute or flatter than a right angle. There are four principal faces, however, larger than the others: three occupied by niches, the fourth by the entrance. The roof is in steps, and with a flat band on each face in continuation of the larger face below. The summit ornament is a flower or vase, in this instance apparently incomplete. The porch is simple, consisting only of sixteen pillars,{389} disposed equidistantly, without any attempt at the octagonal dome of the Jains or the varied arrangements subsequently attempted.

216. Temple at Buchropully. (From a Photograph.)

Although of no great magnificence in itself, this temple is interesting as possessing all the features which distinguish the Chalukyan style from those that surround it either on the north or south. Instead of their square plans, this one is practically star-shaped. The sikra is a straight-lined cone, and its decorations in steps is as unlike the Dravidian spire in storeys as it is to the curvilinear outline of the Jaina or northern temples. The porch, too, is open, and consists of columns spaced equidistantly over its floor, without either the bracketing arrangements of the southern or the domical forms of the northern styles. Situated as it was locally, half-way between the Dravidian and northern styles, the Chalukyan borrowed occasionally a feature or form from one or from the other, but never to such an extent as to obliterate its individuality, or to prevent its being recognised as a separate and distinct style of architecture.

When the Nizam’s territory is examined, we shall probably be able to trace all the steps by which this simple village example developed into the metropolitan temple of Hammoncondah, the old capital, six miles north of Worangul. According to an inscription on its walls, this temple was erected, in A.D. 1163, by Pratapa Rudra,[404]{390}

217. Doorway of Great Temple at Hammoncondah. (From a Photograph.)

who, though not exactly himself a Chalukya in blood, succeeded to their possessions and their style. The temple itself is triple, having three detached cells of very considerable dimensions, in front of which is a portico, supported by between 240 or 300 pillars, disposed in a varied and complicated pattern,[405] but without any sign, so far as I {391}can trace, of the Jaina octagonal arrangement for a dome. Like most of these late temples, this one was never finished. It was too extensive for one king’s reign, even for one so powerful as he was who undertook it, and before it was heartily taken up again the Mahomedans were upon them (in A.D. 1309), and there was an end of Hindu greatness and of Hindu art.

Some of its details, however, are of great beauty, especially the entrances, which are objects on which the architects generally lavished their utmost skill. The preceding woodcut (No. 217) will explain the form of those of the great temple, as well as the general ordinances of the pillars of the great portico. Nothing in Hindu art is more pleasing than the pierced slabs which the Chalukyas used for windows. They are not, so far as I recollect, used—certainly, not extensively—in any other style, but as used by them are highly ornamental and appropriate, both externally and internally.

The pillars, too, are rich, without being overdone; and as it is only in pairs that they are of the same design, the effect of the whole is singularly varied, but at the same time pleasing and elegant.

There are at Hammoncondah or Worangul a great number of smaller temples and shrines, in the same style as the great temple, and, like it, apparently all dedicated to Siva, from the constant presence of his bull everywhere. Most are ruined; but whether this is owing to Moslem bigotry or faulty construction, it is difficult to say. Judging from appearances, I am inclined to believe the latter was the true cause. The mode of building is without mortar, and the joints are by no means well fitted. The style is also remarkably free from figure-sculpture, which is generally the thing that most easily excites the iconoclastic feelings of the followers of the Prophet.

In Worangul there are four Kirti Stambhas, as they are called, facing one another, as if they formed the entrances to a square enclosure (Woodcut No. 218). No wall is there, however, nor is there anything inside; so the object of their erection is by no means apparent. They were set up by the same Pratapa Rudra who built the great temple in the old capital, and built several others in this new city. It cannot be said they are particularly elegant specimens of art. Their main interest lies in their being the lineal descendants of the four gateways at Sanchi (Woodcut No. 33), and they may have been erected to replace some wooden or frailer structure which had fallen into decay. Whether this is so or not, they are curious as exemplifying how, in the course of a thousand years or thereabouts, a wooden style of building may lose all traces of its origin and become as essentially lithic as these, but still betray its origin as clearly as they do; for it seems most unlikely that any such form could have been invented by any one using stone constructions, and that only.{392}

218. Kirti Stambha at Worangul. (From a Photograph.)

Mysore.

It is in the province of Mysore, however, that the Chalukyan style attained its fullest development and highest degree of perfection during the three centuries—A.D. 1000 to 1300—in which the Hoisala Bellalas had supreme sway in that country. Three temples, or rather groups of temples, were erected by them—the first at a place called Somnathpûr, south of Mysore, by Vinaditya Bellala, who ascended the throne A.D. 1043; the second at Baillûr, in the centre of the province, owed its origin apparently to Vishnu Verddhana, in or about A.D. 1114; the last and greatest at a place they called Dwarsamudra—the Gate of the Sea—now known as Hullabîd, not far from the last-named, from which the capital was removed by Vijaya Narsinha, in 1145. It continued to be the metropolis of the kingdom, till it was destroyed{393} and the building of the great temple stopped by the Mahomedan invasion in A.D. 1310-1311.[406]

Even in this short series we see evidence of that downward progress of art, especially in sculpture, which is everywhere the characteristic of Hindu art. Though the design is the grandest, the sculpture and details of Hullabîd are inferior to those of Baillûr, and Somnathpûr seems superior to both. We consequently long to trace back the history of the style to some more distant date, when we might find it emerging in purity and elegance from some unknown prototype. Unfortunately, we are not at present able to do this. We are obliged to leap over the dark ages to the caves and temples of Badami and Aiwulli, and have no intermediate examples to connect the two. It is more than probable that they do exist, and will be found when looked for. Meanwhile, however, we can only assume that the star-like plans and peculiar details of the style were elaborated between the 6th and the 10th centuries in Central and Western India, but where and by whom remains still to be discovered.

Like the great temple at Hammoncondah, that at Somnathpûr is triple, the cells, with their sikras, being attached to a square pillared hall, to the fourth side of which a portico is attached, in this instance of very moderate dimensions.[407] The whole stands in a square cloistered court, and has the usual accompaniments of entrance-porches, stambhas, &c.

The following illustration (No. 219) will give an idea—an imperfect one, it must be confessed—of the elegance of outline and marvellous elaboration of detail that characterises these shrines. Judging from the figure of a man in one of the photographs, its height seems to be only about 30 ft., which, if it stood in the open, would be almost too small for architectural effect; but in the centre of an enclosed court, and where there are no larger objects to contrast with it, it is sufficient, when judiciously treated, to produce a considerable impression of grandeur, and apparently does so in this instance.

The temple at Somnathpûr is a single but complete whole; that at Baillûr, on the other hand, consists of one principal temple, surrounded by four or five others and numerous subordinate buildings, enclosed in a court by a high wall measuring 360 ft. by 440 ft., and having two very fine gateways or gopuras in its eastern front. As{394} will be seen from the following plan (Woodcut No. 220), the great temple consists of a very solid vimana, with an anterala, or porch; and in front of this a porch of the usual star-like form, measuring 90 ft. across. The whole length of the temple, from the east door to the back of cell, is 115 ft., and the whole stands on a terrace about 3 ft. high, and from 10 ft. to 15 ft. wide. This is one of the characteristic features of Chalukyan design, and adds very considerably to the effect of their temples.

219. Temple at Somnathpûr. (From a Photograph.)

{395}

The arrangements of the pillars have much of that pleasing subordination and variety of spacing which is found in those of the Jains, but we miss here the octagonal dome, which gives such poetry and meaning to the arrangements they adopted. Instead of that, we have only an exaggerated compartment in the centre, which fits nothing, and, though it does give dignity to the centre, it does it so clumsily as to be almost offensive in an architectural sense.

220. Plan of Great Temple at Baillûr. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

It is not, however, either to its dimensions, or the disposition of its plan, that this temple owes its pre-eminence among others of its class, but to the marvellous elaboration and beauty of its details. The effect of these, it is true, has been, in modern times, considerably marred by the repeated coats of whitewash which the present low order of priests consider the most appropriate way of adding to the beauty of the most delicate sculptures. Notwithstanding this, however, their outline can always be traced, and where the whitewash has not been applied, or has been worn off, their beauty comes out with wonderful sharpness.

The following woodcut (No. 221) will convey some idea of the richness and variety of pattern displayed in the windows of the porch. These are twenty-eight in number, and all are different. Some are pierced with merely conventional patterns, generally star-shaped, and with foliaged bands between; others are interspersed with figures and mythological subjects—the nearest one, for instance, on the left, in the woodcut, represents the Varaha Avatar, and others{396} different scenes connected with the worship of Vishnu, to whom the temple is dedicated. The pierced slabs themselves, however, are hardly so remarkable as the richly-carved base on which they rest, and the deep cornice which overshadows and protects them. The amount of labour, indeed, which each facet of this porch displays is such as, I believe, never was bestowed on any surface of equal extent in any building in the world; and though the design is not of the highest order of art, it is elegant and appropriate, and never offends against good taste.

221. View of part of Porch at Baillûr. (From a Photograph.)

The sculptures of the base of the vimana, which have not been whitewashed, are as elaborate as those of the porch, in some places more so; and the mode in which the undersides of the cornices have been elaborated and adorned is such as is only to be found in temples of this class. The upper part of the tower is anomalous. It may be that it has been whitewashed and repaired till it has assumed its present discordant appearance, which renders it certainly a blot on the whole design. My own impression rather is, that, like many others of its class, it was left unfinished, and the upper part added at subsequent periods. Its original form most probably was that of the little pavilions that adorn its portals, one of which is represented in the following woodcut (No. 222), which has all the peculiar features of the style—the flat band on each face, the three star-like projections between, and the peculiar crowning ornament of the{397} style. The plan of the great tower, and the presence of the pavilions where they stand, seems to prove almost beyond doubt that this was the original design; but the design may have been altered as it progressed, or it may, as I suspect, have been changed afterwards.

There seems to be little or no doubt about the date of this temple. It was erected by Vishnu Verddhana, the fourth king of the race, to commemorate his conversion by the celebrated Rama Anuja from the Jaina to the Hindu faith. He ascended the throne A.D. 1114, and his conversion took place soon afterwards; but it is possible he did not live to finish the temple, and as the capital was removed by the next king to Hullabîd, it is possible that the vimana of the great temple, and the erection of some at least of the smaller shrines, may belong to a subsequent period.

222. Pavilion at Baillûr. (From a Photograph.)

Hullabîd.

The earliest temple known to exist at Hullabîd is a small detached shrine, known by the inexplicable name of Kait Iswara, dedicated to Siva, and probably erected by Vijaya, the fifth king of the Bellala dynasty. Its general appearance will be understood from the next woodcut (No. 223). It is star-shaped in plan, with sixteen points, and had a porch, now so entirely ruined and covered up with vegetation that it is difficult to make out its plan. Its roof is conical, and from the basement to the summit it is covered with sculptures of the very best class of Indian art, and these so arranged as not materially to interfere with the outlines of the building, while they impart to it an amount of richness only to be found among specimens of Hindu art.[408] If it were possible to illustrate this little temple in{398} anything like completeness, there is probably nothing in India which would convey a better idea of what its architects were capable of accomplishing.

223. Kait Iswara, Hullabîd. (From a Photograph by Capt. Tripe.)

It is, however, surpassed in size and magnificence by its neighbour, the great temple at Hullabîd, which, had it been completed, is one of the buildings on which the advocate of Hindu architecture would desire to take his stand. Unfortunately, it never was finished, the works having been stopped by the Mahomedan conquest in 1310 A.D., after they had been in progress apparently for eighty-six{399} years. It is instructive to observe that the single century that elapsed between the execution of the sculpture of the Kait Iswara and of this temple, was sufficient to demonstrate the decay in style which we have already noticed as an inherent characteristic of Indian art. The sculptures of Hullabîd are inferior to those of the Kait Iswara, and those of that temple, again, to those at Baillûr.

224. Plan of Temple at Hullabîd. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

The general arrangements of the building are given on the annexed plan (Woodcut No. 224), from which it will be perceived that it is a double temple. If it were cut into halves, each part would be complete with a pillared porch of the same type as that at Baillûr, above referred to, an anterala or intermediate porch, and a sanctuary containing a lingam, the emblem of Siva. Besides this, each half would have in front of it a detached, pillared porch as a shrine for the Bull Nundi, which, of course, was not required in a Vaishnava temple. Such double temples are by no means uncommon in India, but the two sanctuaries usually face each other, and have the porch between them. Its dimensions may roughly be stated as 200 ft. square over all, including all the detached pavilions. The temple itself is 160 ft.{400} north and south, by 122 ft. east and west. Its height, as it now remains, to the cornice is about 25 ft. from the terrace on which it stands. It cannot, therefore, be considered by any means as a large building, though large enough for effect. This, however, can hardly be judged of as it now stands, for there is no doubt but that it was intended to raise two pyramidal spires over the sanctuaries, four smaller ones in front of these, and two more, one over each of the two central pavilions. Thus completed, the temple would have assumed something like the outline shown in the woodcut (No. 225), and if carried out with the richness of detail exhibited in the Kait Iswara (Woodcut No. 223) would have made up a whole which it would be difficult to rival anywhere.

225. Restored View of Temple at Hullabîd.

The material out of which this temple is erected is an indurated potstone, of volcanic origin, found in the neighbourhood. This stone is said to be soft when first quarried, and easily cut in that state, though hardening on exposure to the atmosphere. Even this, however, will not diminish our admiration of the amount of labour bestowed on the temple, for, from the number of parts still unfinished, it is evident that, like most others of its class, it was built in block, and carved long after the stone had become hard. As we now see it, the stone is of a pleasing creamy colour, and so close-grained as to take a polish like marble. The pillars of the great Nundi pavilion, which look as if they had been turned in a lathe, are so polished as to exhibit what the natives call a double reflection—in other words, to reflect light from each other. The enduring qualities of the stone seem to be unrivalled, for, though neglected and exposed to all the vicissitudes of a tropical climate for more than six centuries, the{401} minutest details are as clear and sharp as the day they were finished. Except from the splitting of the stone arising from bad masonry, the building is as perfect as when its erection was stopped by the Mahomedan conquest.

It is, of course, impossible to illustrate completely so complicated and so varied a design; but the following woodcut (No. 226) will suffice to explain the general ordonnance of its elevation. The building stands on a terrace ranging from 5 ft. to 6 ft. in height, and paved with large slabs. On this stands a frieze of elephants, following all the sinuosities of the plan and extending to some 710 ft. in length, and containing not less than 2000 elephants, most of them with riders and trappings, sculptured as only an Oriental can represent the wisest of brutes. Above these is a frieze of “shardalas,” or conventional lions—the emblems of the Hoisala Bellalas who built the temple. Then comes a scroll of infinite beauty and variety of design; over this a frieze of horsemen and another scroll; over which is a bas-relief of scenes from the ‘Ramayana,’ representing the conquest of Ceylon and all the varied incidents of that epic. This, like the other, is about 700 ft. long. (The frieze of the Parthenon is less than 550 ft.) Then come celestial beasts and celestial birds, and all along the east front a frieze of groups from human life, and then a cornice, with a rail, divided into panels, each containing two figures. Over this are windows of pierced slabs, like those of Baillûr, though not so rich or varied. These windows will be observed on the right and left of the woodcut. In the centre, in place of the windows, is first a scroll, and then a frieze of gods and heavenly apsaras—dancing girls and other objects of Hindu mythology. This frieze, which is about 5 ft. 6 in. in height, is continued all round the western front of the building, and extends to some 400 ft. in length. Siva, with his consort Parvati seated on his knee, is repeated at least fourteen times; Vishnu in his nine Avatars even oftener. Brahma occurs three or four times, and every great god of the Hindu Pantheon finds his place. Some of these are carved with a minute elaboration of detail which can only be reproduced by photography, and may probably be considered as one of the most marvellous exhibitions of human labour to be found even in the patient East.

It must not, however, be considered that it is only for patient industry that this building is remarkable. The mode in which the eastern face is broken up by the larger masses, so as to give height and play of light and shade, is a better way of accomplishing what the Gothic architects attempted by their transepts and projections. This, however, is surpassed by the western front, where the variety of outline, and the arrangement and subordination of the various facets in which it is disposed, must be considered as a masterpiece of design in its class. If the frieze of gods were spread along a plain surface it{402}

226. Central Pavilion, Hullabîd, East Front. (From a Photograph.)

{403}

would lose more than half its effect, while the vertical angles, without interfering with the continuity of the frieze, give height and strength to the whole composition. The disposition of the horizontal lines of the lower friezes is equally effective. Here again the artistic combination of horizontal with vertical lines, and the play of outline and of light and shade, far surpass anything in Gothic art. The effects are just what the mediæval architects were often aiming at, but which they never attained so perfectly as was done at Hullabîd.

Before leaving Hullabîd, it may be well again to call attention to the order of superposition of the different animal friezes, alluded to already, when speaking of the rock-cut monastery described by the Chinese Pilgrims (ante, p. 135). There, as here, the lowest were the elephants; then the lions; above these came the horses; then the oxen; and the fifth storey was in the shape of a pigeon. The oxen here is replaced by a conventional animal, and the pigeon also by a bird of a species that would puzzle a naturalist. The succession, however, is the same, and, as mentioned above, the same five genera of living things form the ornaments of the moonstones of the various monuments in Ceylon. Sometimes in modern Hindu temples only two or three animal friezes are found, but the succession is always the same, the elephants being the lowest, next above them are the lions, and then the horses, &c. When we know the cause of it, it seems as if this curious selection and succession might lead to some very suggestive conclusions. At present we can only call attention to it in hopes that further investigation may afford the means of solving the mystery.

If it were possible to illustrate the Hullabîd temple to such an extent as to render its peculiarities familiar, there would be few things more interesting or more instructive than to institute a comparison between it and the Parthenon at Athens. Not that the two buildings are at all like one another; on the contrary, they form the two opposite poles—the alpha and omega of architectural design; but they are the best examples of their class, and between these two extremes lies the whole range of the art. The Parthenon is the best example we know of pure refined intellectual power applied to the production of an architectural design. Every part and every effect is calculated with mathematical exactness, and executed with a mechanical precision that never was equalled. All the curves are hyperbolas, parabolas, or other developments of the highest mathematical forms—every optical defect is foreseen and provided for, and every part has a relation to every other part in so recondite a proportion that we feel inclined to call it fanciful, because we can hardly rise to its appreciation. The sculpture is exquisitely designed to aid the perfection of the masonry—severe and godlike, but with no condescension to the lower feelings of humanity.{404}

The Hullabîd temple is the opposite of all this. It is regular, but with a studied variety of outline in plan, and even greater variety in detail. All the pillars of the Parthenon are identical, while no two facets of the Indian temple are the same; every convolution of every scroll is different. No two canopies in the whole building are alike, and every part exhibits a joyous exuberance of fancy scorning every mechanical restraint. All that is wild in human faith or warm in human feeling is found portrayed on these walls; but of pure intellect there is little—less than there is of human feeling in the Parthenon.

It would be possible to arrange all the buildings of the world between these two extremes, as they tended toward the severe intellectual purity of the one, or to the playful exuberant fancy of the other; but perfection, if it existed, would be somewhere near the mean. My own impression is, that if the so-called Gothic architects had been able to maintain for two or three hundred years more the rate of progress they achieved between the 11th and the 14th century, they might have hit upon that happy mean between severe constructive propriety and playful decorative imaginings which would have combined into something more perfect than the world has yet seen. The system, however, as I have endeavoured to point out elsewhere, broke down before it had acquired the requisite degree of refinement, and that hope was blighted never to be revived. If architecture ever again assumes an onward path, it will not be by leaning too strongly towards either of the extremes just named, but by grasping somewhere the happy mean between the two.

For our present purpose, the great value of the study of these Indian examples is that it widens so immensely our basis for architectural criticism. It is only by becoming familiar with forms so utterly dissimilar from those we have hitherto been conversant with, that we perceive how narrow is the purview that is content with one form or one passing fashion. By rising to this wider range we shall perceive that architecture is as many-sided as human nature itself, and learn how few feelings and how few aspirations of the human heart and brain there are that cannot be expressed by its means. On the other hand, it is only by taking this wide survey that we appreciate how worthless any product of architectural art becomes which does not honestly represent the thoughts and feelings of those who built it, or the height of their loftiest aspirations.

To return, however, from this digression. There are some eight or nine different temples in this style illustrated by photographs in the great work on the ‘Architecture of Dharwar and Mysore,’[409] which exhibit the peculiarities of this style in more or less detail; but none{405} of these plates are accompanied by plans or details that throw new light on the subject, and none of the temples are either so large or so beautiful as those just described, so that the enumeration of their unfamiliar names would add very little to the interest of the subject.

It would be very interesting, however, if we could adduce some northern examples of the style from either the capital city of the Ballabhis, or some town in their kingdom. For about two centuries—A.D. 500 to 700—they were a leading power in India, and closely allied to the Chalukyas; and their style, if any examples could be found, would throw great light on that of their southern allies just at the period when it is most wanted. Unfortunately, however, even the site of their capital is unknown. If it were at Wulleh, near Gogo, on the shores of the Gulf of Cambay, as is generally supposed, it has perished root and branch. Not one vestige of its architecture now remains, and what antiquities have been found seem all to belong to a much more modern period, when a city bearing that name may have existed on the spot. If it were situated near Anhulwarra Puttun, which seems far more probable, it has been quarried to supply materials for the successive capitals which from that time forward have occupied that favoured neighbourhood, and it would require the keen eye of a practised archæologist to detect Chalukyan details in the temples and mosques that have been erected there during the last 800 years. Nothing of the sort has yet been attempted, and no materials consequently exist for the elucidation of one of the most interesting chapters in the history of Indian art.{406}

## BOOK VI.
NORTHERN OR INDO-ARYAN STYLE.

## CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.

CONTENTS.

Introductory—Dravidian and Indo-Aryan Temples at Badami—Modern Temple at Benares.

Of the three styles into which Hindu architecture naturally divides itself, the northern is found spread over a far larger portion of the country than either of the other two. It wants, however, the compactness and strongly-marked individuality of the Dravidian, and never was developed with that exuberance which characterised the southern style from the 15th to the 18th century. In many respects it resembles more the Chalukyan style, the examples being small and elegant, and found dispersed over the face of the country, where wanted, without any apparent massing together in particular spots.

Unfortunately, we have no name which would describe the style in its ethnographical and geographical relations without being open to the objection of expressing either too much or too little. In this respect the southern style is singularly fortunate: Dravidian correctly limits it to people speaking Tamil, Telugu, or some cognate dialect; and the country where the people speaking those tongues are to be found is generally and correctly known as Dravida Desa, or country of the Dravidians.

The term Chalukyan, applied to the second style, is not so expressive; but it is unobjectionable, as it cannot mislead any one. It is only a conventional term, derived from the principal known dynasty ruling in that country, applied to a style occupying a borderland between the other two, but a land that has not yet been fully surveyed, and whose boundaries cannot now be fixed with precision. Till they are, a conventional name that does not mislead is all that can be hoped for.

If it were allowable to adopt the loose phraseology of philological{407} ethnography, the term Aryan might be employed, as it is the name by which the people practising this style are usually known in India, and it would be particularly convenient here, as it is the correct and direct antithesis of Dravidian. It is evident, however, that any such term, if applied to architecture, ought to be descriptive of some style practised by that people, wherever they settled, all across Europe and Asia, between the shores of the Atlantic and the Bay of Bengal;[410] and it need hardly be said that no such style exists. If used in conjunction with the adjective Indian or Indo, it becomes much less objectionable, and has the advantage of limiting its use to the people who are generally known as Aryans in India—in other words, to all those parts of the country where Sanscrit was ever spoken, or where the people now speak tongues so far derived from Sanscrit as to be distinguishable as offsets of that great family of languages. Its use, in this respect, has the great convenience that any ordinary ethnographical or linguistic map of India is sufficient to describe the boundaries of the style. It extends, like the so-called Aryan tongues, from the Himalayas to the Vindhya mountains. On the east, it is found prevalent in Orissa; and on the west in Maharastra. Its southern boundary between these two provinces will only be known when the Nizam’s territory is architecturally surveyed; but meanwhile we may rest assured that wherever it is traced the linguistic and architectural boundary-lines will be found coincident.

Another reason why the term Aryan should be applied to the style is, that the country just described, where it prevails, is, and always has been, called Aryavarta by the natives themselves. They consider it as the land of the pure and just—meaning thereby the Sanscrit-speaking peoples—as contradistinguished from that of the casteless Dasyus, and other tribes, who, though they may have adopted Brahmanical institutions, could not acquire their purity of race.

The great defect of the term, however, is that the people inhabiting the north of India are not Aryans in any reasonable sense of the term, whatever philologists may say to the contrary. The Sanscrit-speaking people, who came into India 2000 or it may be 3000 years B.C., could never have been numerically one-half of the inhabitants of the country, except, perhaps, in some such limited district as that between the Sutlej and the Jumna; and since the Christian Era no Aryan race has migrated eastward across the Indus, but wave after wave of peoples of Turanian race, under the names of Yavanas,{408} Sakas, Hunas, or Mongols, have poured into India. This, combined with the ascendancy of the aboriginal races during the period when Buddhism was the religion of the country, has so completely washed out Aryanism from northern India during the building ages, that there is probably no community there which could claim one-tenth of pure Aryan blood in its veins, and with nine-tenths of impurity the term is certainly a misnomer. If it were not, we would certainly find some trace of external Aryan affinities in their style; but this is not the case. In fact, no style is so purely local, and, if the term may be used, so aboriginal, as this. The origin of the Buddhist style is obvious and unmistakeable; that of the Dravidian and Chalukyan nearly as certain, though not quite so obvious; but the origin of the northern Hindu style remains a mystery, unless, indeed, the solution suggested above (ante, p. 224) be considered an explanation. It may be so, to some extent; but I confess it is to my mind neither quite satisfactory nor sufficient.

The style was adopted by the Jains, who, as the successors of the Buddhists, certainly were not Aryans, and several examples of the peculiar forms of their vimanas, or sikras have already been given (Woodcuts Nos. 137, 145, &c.); but it still remains to be ascertained from what original form the curvilinear square tower could have arisen. There is nothing in Buddhist, or any other art, at all like it. It does not seem to have been derived from any wooden form we know, nor from any brick or stone, or tile mode of roofing found anywhere else. I have looked longer, and, perhaps, thought more, on this problem than on any other of its class connected with Indian architecture, but I have no more plausible suggestion to offer than that hinted at above. The real solution will probably be found in the accidental discovery of old temples—so old as to betray in their primitive rudeness the secret we are now guessing at in vain. Meanwhile we probably may remain sure that it was not an imported form, but an indigenous production, and that it has no connection with the architecture of any other people Aryan, or others outside of India.

The view above proposed for the origin of the style derives considerable support from the mode in which the temples are now found distributed. There are more temples now in Orissa than in all the rest of Hindustan put together. They are very frequent in Maharastra, and, if we admit the Jains, who adopted this style, they are ten times more frequent in Gujerat and the valley of the Nerbudda than in the valley of the Ganges, or in Aryavarta, properly so called. The first and most obvious explanation of this fact might be that the last-named country has for 600 years been occupied by a Mahomedan empire, and they, hating idolatry and idol temples, have destroyed them wherever they were so absolutely in possession of the country as to be able to do so with impunity. This may be so, and it is an{409} argument which, with our present materials, it is difficult to disprove. My impression, however, is that it does not correctly represent the true state of the case. That the Moslems did ruthlessly destroy Jaina temples at Ajmir, Delhi, Canouge, and elsewhere, may be quite true, but then it was because their columns served so admirably for the construction of their mosques. The astylar temples of the followers of Siva or Vishnu could only have served as quarries, and no stones that had been previously used in Hindu temples have been traced to any extent in Moslem buildings. Even admitting that at Delhi or Allahabad, or any of their capitals, all Hindu buildings have been utilised, this hardly would have been the case at such a provincial capital as Fyzabad, once Ayodhya, the celebrated capital of Dasaratha, the father of the hero of the ‘Ramayana,’ but where not one carved stone or even a foundation can be discovered that belongs to any ancient building.[411] The most crucial instance, however, is the city of Benares, so long the sacred city, par excellence, of the Hindus, yet, so far as is known, no vestige of an ancient Hindu temple exists within its precincts. James Prinsep resided there for ten years, and Major Kittoe, who had a keener eye than even his great master for an architectural form, lived long there as an archæologist and architect. They drew and measured everything, yet neither of them ever thought that they had found anything that was ancient; and it was not till Messrs. Horne and Sherring[412] started the theory that the buildings around the Bakariya Kund were ancient Buddhist or Hindu remains, that any one pretended to have discovered any traces of antiquity in that city. They certainly, however, are mistaken. Every building about the Bakariya Kund was not only erected by the Mahomedans, but the pillars and roofing-stones, with the fewest possible exceptions, were carved by them for the purposes for which they were applied. They may have used the stones of some deserted monasteries, or other Buddhist buildings, in the foundations or on their terraces, or for little detached pavilions; but all the architecture, properly so called, is in a style invented, or at least introduced by the Pathans, and brought to perfection under Akbar. That the Moslems did destroy Hindu temples may be admitted, but it is not clear that this was done wantonly. In all the instances which are authenticated, it{410} was to gain ready-made materials for their mosques, and it was not till the time of Aurungzebe that any of their monarchs felt himself sufficiently powerful or was so bigoted as to dare the power and enmity of the Brahmans of Benares, by erecting a mosque on the site of one of the most sacred temples as an insult and a defiance to the Hindus. Even then, had such a temple as the great one at Bhuvaneswar ever existed in Benares, every stone of which, from the ground to the kullus, is covered with carving, it seems impossible that all these carved stones should be hid away and not one now to be found. I am myself personally tolerably familiar with Benares, and the conviction such knowledge as I have forces on my mind is, that though the city was the earliest and most important settlement of the Vedic Brahmans—the sacred city of the Aryan Hindus from the remotest ages—yet just from that cause it had fewer temples than any of the cities inhabited by less pure races. What few fragments remain are Buddhist or Jaina, and we must consequently ascribe the absence of anything really ancient more to the non-building instincts of the Brahmanical Aryans than the iconoclastic bigotry of the Moslems.

All this will be clearer as we proceed; but meanwhile it may be well to point to one or two other instances of this. The rock at Gualior was one of the earliest conquests of the Moslems, and they held it more or less directly for five centuries. They built palaces and mosques within its precincts, yet the most conspicuous objects on the hill are Hindu temples, that were erected before they obtained possession of it. In like manner Chittore was thrice besieged and thrice sacked by the Mahomedans, but its numerous buildings are intact, and I do not recollect observing a single instance of wanton destruction in the place. An even more striking instance is found at Ellora. Though Aurungzebe, the most bigoted of his race, built his capital in its neighbourhood, and lies buried within sight of the caves, there is no proof that he or any of his race were the authors of any of the damage that has been done to the idols there. Practically, they are intact, or have only received such mutilation as is easily accounted for from other causes.

It would be tedious to attempt it, but, fortunately, it is not necessary for our present purposes to go into the whole evidence; but I may state that the impression I have derived from such attention as I have been able to give to the subject is, that the absence of old temples in northern India is more owing to ethnographic than to religious causes. It seems more probable that they never existed than that they were destroyed. No temples are mentioned in the Vedas or the older Indian writings, and none were required for the simple quasi-domestic rites of their worship; and so long as they remained pure no temples were built. On the other hand, it appears as if between the fall of Buddhism and the advent of the Moslems{411} the Jains had stepped in with a ready-made religion and style, and the followers of Siva and Vishnu had not time to develope anything very important in these northern provinces before it was too late.

227. Dravidian and Indo-Aryan Temples at Badami. (From a Photograph.)

If these views are correct, it is evident that though we may use the term Indo-Aryan as the most convenient to describe and define the limits of the northern style, the name must not be considered as implying that the Aryans, as such, had anything to do either with its invention or its use. All that it is intended to convey is, that it was invented and used in a country which they once occupied, and in which they have left a strong impress of their superior mental power and civilization.

If this reservation is always borne in mind, I know of no term that more conveniently expresses the characteristics of this style, and it is consequently proposed to adopt it in the following pages as the name of the style that prevailed among the Hindus in northern India, between the Vindhya and Himalayan mountains, from the 7th century to the present day.

The general appearance of the northern temples, and the points of difference between them and those of the south, will be appreciated from the above woodcut (No. 227), representing two very ancient temples, built in juxtaposition, at Badami, in Dharwar. That on the left is a complete specimen of Dravidian architecture. There is the same pyramidal form, the same distinction of storeys, the same cells on each, as we find at Mahavellipore (Woodcut No. 181), at{412} Tanjore (Woodcut No. 191), or at Mádura (Woodcut No. 183). In the right-hand temple, the Indo-Aryan, on the contrary, the outline of the pyramid is curvilinear; no trace of division of storeys is observable, no reminiscence of habitations, and no pillars or pilasters anywhere. Even in its modern form (Woodcut No. 228), it still retains the same characteristics, and all the lines of the pyramid or sikra are curvilinear, the base polygonal. No trace of utilitarianism is visible anywhere. If Woodcut No. 228 is compared with that at page 331 (Woodcut No. 183), the two styles will be exhibited in their most modern garbs, when, after more than 1000 years’ practice, they have receded furthest from the forms in which we first meet them Yet the Madras temple retains the memory of its storeys and its cells. The Bengal example recalls nothing known in civil or domestic architecture.

228. Modern Temple at Benares. | 229. Diagram Plan of Hindu Temple.

Neither the pyramid nor the tumulus affords any suggestion as to the origin of the form, nor does the tower, either square or circular; nor does any form of civil or domestic architecture. It does not seem to be derived from any of these; and, whether we consider it as beautiful or otherwise, it seems certainly to have been invented principally at least for æsthetic purposes, and to have retained that impress from the earliest till the present day.

The plan of a northern temple is always a square internally, and generally the same form is retained in the exterior; but very rarely, if ever, without some addition. In some instances it is only a thin{413} parallel projection, as at A in the diagram (No. 229). Sometimes it has two such slices added, as at B; but in the oldest examples these are only half the thickness shown here. From this they proceeded to three projections, as at C, the oldest examples being the thinnest. In more modern times the thickness of the projections became equal to their distance from each other, as at D; so that the temple became in plan practically a square, the sides of which were parallel to the diagonal of the original square or to the line E F G. Even, however, when this was the case, the cell always retained its original form and direction, and the entrance and windows kept their position on what had thus practically become the angles of the building. This is the case with the temple at Benares, shown in Woodcut No. 228, and generally also with the Jaina temples, and especially the case with the temple on the Takht-i-Suleiman at Kashmir. Although the depth and width of these offsets vary considerably even in the same design, the original square is never lost sight of; the four central angles, as at F, being always larger and more strongly accentuated than the others, and their line is always carried through to the summit of the pyramid.

It will be observed that by this process we have arrived at the same form or plan for a solid building that was attained by the arrangement of pillars described above, page 216. In fact, the two forms were elaborated simultaneously, and were afterwards constantly used together. My impression is, that the pillared arrangement is the oldest, and led to the deepening of the additions to the solid square till the two became identical in plan. Whether this were so or not, it is one of the most distinguishing features of northern Hindu architecture.

In the very centre of India, near a place marked Adjmîrghur on the map, is a sacred tank, from which it is said that the Soane flows to the north, the Mahanuddi to Cuttack in the Bay of Bengal, and the Nerbudda to the Indian Ocean. All these rivers certainly have their sources in the hill. The spot has always been held sacred, and is surrounded by temples—as far as can be gathered from the imperfect accounts available—of great age. On the south and east of this hill extends the great and fertile table-land of Chutteesghur. This is now, and has always been, so far as our knowledge extends, one of the principal seats of the native tribes. My conviction is, that if that country and the surrounding valleys could be examined, much older forms of these temples might be discovered—some perhaps so old as to betray the secret of their origin; but, till this is done, the Bengali devala must be relegated—like the Irish round towers[413]—to the category of unexplained architectural puzzles.{414}

## CHAPTER II.
ORISSA.

CONTENTS.

History—Temples at Bhuvaneswar, Kanaruc, Puri, Jajepur, and Cuttack.

The two provinces of India, where the Indo-Aryan style can be studied with the greatest advantage, are Dharwar on the west, and Orissa on the east coast. The former has the advantage of being mixed up with the Dravidian style, so as to admit of synonyms and contrasts that are singularly interesting, both from an ethnological and historical point of view. In Orissa, on the contrary, the style is perfectly pure, being unmixed with any other, and thus forms one of the most compact and homogeneous architectural groups in India, and as such of more than usual interest, and it is consequently in this province that the style can be studied to the greatest advantage.

One of the most marked and striking peculiarities of Orissan architecture is the marked and almost absolute contrast it presents to the style of the Dravidian at the southern end of the peninsula. The curved outline of the towers or vimanas has already been remarked upon, but, besides this, no Orissan towers present the smallest trace of any storeyed or even step-like arrangement, which is so universal further south, and the crowning member is never a dome, nor a reminiscence of one. Even more remarkable than this, is the fact that the Orissan style is almost absolutely astylar. In some of the most modern examples, as for instance in the porches added to the temples at Bhuvaneswar and Puri in the 12th and 14th centuries, we do find pillars, but it is probably correct to state that, among the 500 or 600[414] original shrines at Bhuvaneswar, not one pillar is to be found. This is the more remarkable, because, within sight of that capital, the caves in the Udayagiri (ante, p. 140) are adorned with pillars to such an extent as to show that their forms must have been usual and well known in the province before any of the temples were constructed. When we recollect that no great temple in the south was considered{415} complete without its hall of 1000 columns, and many besides this had hundreds dispersed about the place, and used for every conceivable purpose, the contrast is more striking, and shows what a complete barrier the Chalukyas, whoever they were, interposed between the two races on this side of India, though not on the other. As a rule, every Orissan temple consists of two apartments, similar in plan, as shown in the diagram (Woodcut No. 124). The inner one is generally a cube, surmounted by a tower, here called Bara Deul, or Dewul, corresponding with the vimana of the south, and in it the image or images of the gods are enshrined; in front of this is a porch, called Jagamohan, equally a cube or approaching it, and surmounted by a pyramidal roof of varying pitch. The peculiarities are illustrated in the diagram (Woodcut No. 124) just referred to, which purports to be an elevation of the celebrated Black Pagoda at Kanaruc. It is only, however, an eye-sketch, and cannot be depended upon for minute detail and correctness, but it is sufficient to explain the meaning of the text. Sometimes one or two more porches were added in front of this one, and called Nât and Bhog mandirs (mantapas), but these, in almost every instance, are afterthoughts, and not parts of the original design. Be this as it may, in every instance in Orissa the tower with its porch forms the temple. If enclosed in a wall, they are always to be seen outside. There are gateways, it is true, but they are always subordinate, and there are none of those accretions of enclosures and gopuras that form so marked a characteristic of the southern style. There generally are other shrines within the enclosures of the great temples, but they are always kept subordinate, and the temple itself towers over everything to even a greater extent than that at Tanjore (Woodcut No. 191), giving a unity and purpose to the whole design, so frequently wanting in the south.

Other contrasts will come out as we proceed, but, in the meanwhile, few examples bring out more clearly the vast importance of ethnography as applied to architecture. That two people, inhabiting practically the same country, and worshipping the same gods under the guidance of the same Brahmanical priesthood, should have adopted and adhered to two such dissimilar styles for their sacred buildings, shows as clearly as anything can well do how much race has to do with these matters, and how little we can understand the causes of such contrasts, unless we take affinities or differences of race into consideration.

History.

Thanks to the industry of Stirling and others, the main outlines of the history of Orissa have been ascertained with sufficient accuracy to enable us to describe its architecture without the fear of making{416} any important chronological blunders. It is true that the dates of only two of its temples have been ascertained with tolerable certainty. The great one at Bhuvaneswar is said to have been erected in or about A.D. 637, and that at Puri in A.D. 1174, nearly the first and the last of the series. My impression is that the series may be carried back to about the year 500, but in the other direction it can hardly be extended beyond the year 1200, but within these limits it seems possible to arrange the sequence of all the temples in the province without much difficulty, and to ascertain their dates with at least a fair approximate certainty.[415]

With the exception of the great temple of Juganât at Puri, all the buildings described in this chapter were erected under the great Kesari dynasty, or “Lion line,” as Hunter calls them. Few of the particulars of their history have been recorded, but we know at least the date of their accession, A.D. 473, and that in A.D. 1131 they were succeeded by a new dynasty, called Ganga Vansa, the third of whom was the builder of the great Puri Temple.

As mentioned in a previous part of this work, Orissa was principally Buddhist, at least from the time of Asoka, B.C. 250, till the Gupta era, A.D. 319, when all India was distracted by wars connected with the tooth relic, which was said to have been preserved at Puri—then in consequence called Danta Pura—till that time. If the invaders came by sea, as it is said they did, they probably were either Mughs{417} from Arrakan, or the Burmese of Pegu, and if their object was to obtain possession of the tooth, they as probably were Buddhists; but as they have left no buildings that have yet been identified as theirs, it is impossible now to determine this. Whoever they were, they were driven out, after 146 years’ possession, and were succeeded in or about A.D. 473 by Yayati, the first of the Kesari line.[416] The annals of the race unfortunately do not tell us who the Kesaris were, or whence they came. From the third king before the Yavana invasion being called Bato Kesari, it seems probable it may have been only a revival of the old dynasty; and from the circumstances narrated regarding the expulsion of these strangers, it looks as if it were due more to a local rising than to extraneous aid. If they came from the interior, it was from the north-west, where a similar style seems to have prevailed. Their story, as told in their own annals, states that the first, or one of the first kings of the race, imported, about the year A.D. 500, a colony—10,000 Brahmans—from Ayodhya, and they being all bigoted Saivites, introduced that religion into the province, and rooted it so firmly there, that it was the faith of the land so long as the Kesaris ruled.[417] If we read 100 as the number of the Brahmans, and A.D. 600 as the date of their advent, we shall probably be nearer the truth; but be this as it may, these Brahmans were settled at Jajepur, not at Bhuvaneswar, and soon came into conflict with a class of “Old Brahmans,” who had been established in the province long before their arrival. Mr. Hunter supposes them to have been Buddhists—Brahmans converted to the Buddhist faith—which seems probable, but if this were so, they would certainly have become Vaishnavas on the decline of that religion, and such, I fancy, was certainly the case in this instance.

The architecture of the province seems to me to confirm this view of the case, for, unless I am very much mistaken, the oldest temple in the city of Bhuvaneswar is that called Parasurameswara (Woodcut No. 230), which from its name, as well as the subjects portrayed on its walls, I would take to be certainly Vaishnava. It may, however, belong to the preceding dynasty. Its style is certainly different from the early Kesari temples, and more like what we find in Dharwar and at other places outside the province. If, indeed, it were not found in a city which there seems every reason for thinking was founded by the Lion kings, I would not hesitate to give it a date of A.D. 450, instead of A.D. 500. It is not large, being only 20 ft. square[418]

{418}

at its base; but its sculptures are cut with a delicacy seldom surpassed, and there is an appropriateness about the ornaments greater than is seen in most of the temples.

230. Temple of Parasurameswara. (From a Photograph.)

The temple itself is apparently 38 ft. in height, and from the summit to the base it is covered with sculptures of the most elaborate character, but still without detracting from the simplicity and vigour of its outline.

If I am correct in assigning so early a date to the tower of this temple, it is evident that the porch must be a subsequent addition: in the first place, because it fits badly to the tower, but more because the necessities of its construction require pillars internally, and they do not occur in Orissan architecture till a long subsequent date. It may, however, be that if this is really the oldest temple of its class in Orissa, its design may be copied from a foreign example, and borrowed, with all its peculiarities, from a style practised elsewhere. Be that as it may, it is interesting as showing the mode by which light was sometimes introduced into the porches of these temples between the ends of the beams of the stone roof. As the sloping roofing-stones project considerably beyond the openings, a subdued light is introduced, without either the direct rays of the sun, or the rain being able to penetrate.{419}

231. Temple of Mukteswara. (From a Photograph.)

The temple of Mukteswara (Woodcut No. 231) is very similar in general design to that of Parasurameswara, but even richer and more varied in detail, and its porch partakes more of the regular Orissan type. It has no pillars internally, and the roof externally exhibits at least the germ of what we find in the porches of the great temple at Bhuvaneswar and the Black Pagoda. Its dimensions are somewhat less than those of the last temple described, but in its class it may be considered the gem of Orissan architecture.{420}

The style of these temples differs so much from that of the next group, of which the great temple is the typical example, that I was at one time inclined to believe they may have belonged to different religions—this one to the Vaishnava, that to the Saiva. I have no means, however, of verifying this conjecture, and it is not always easy to do so even on the spot, for in India there is nothing so common as temples originally destined for the worship of one deity being afterwards devoted to that of another. Whatever may be the case in this instance, it is well to bear this in mind, as, whenever we have a complete history of Orissan architecture, these distinctions may lead to most important historical deductions.

Besides these, there are several other temples which, from the style of their architecture, I would feel inclined to place as earlier than the great temple. One is known as Sari Dëul, near the great temple, and another, a very complete and beautiful example, is called Moitre (query Mittra) Serai, which is almost a duplicate, on a small scale, of the great temple, except that it has no repetition of itself on itself. As above pointed out, almost all the ornaments on the façades of Buddhist temples are repetitions of themselves; but the Hindus do not seem to have adopted this system so early, and the extent to which it is carried is generally a fair test of the age of Hindu temples. In the great Pagoda there are eight copies of itself on each face, and in the Raj Rani the system is carried so far as almost to obliterate the original form of the temple.

Great Temple, Bhuvaneswar.

The great temple at Bhuvaneswar is one of the landmarks in the style. It seems almost certainly to have been built by Lelat Indra Kesari, who reigned from A.D. 617 to A.D. 657, and, taking it all in all, it is perhaps the finest example of a purely Hindu temple in India.

Though not a building of the largest class, the dimensions of this temple in plan are, so far as I can make out, far from contemptible. The whole length is nearly 300 ft., with a breadth varying from 60 ft. to 75 ft. The original temple, however, like almost all those in Orissa, consisted only of a vimana, or Bara Dewul, and a porch or Jagamohan, shaded darker in the plan (Woodcut No. 232), and they extend only to 160 ft. The Nat and Bhog-mandirs, shaded lighter, were added in the beginning of the 12th century. Though several temples have all these four apartments, so far as I can make out, none were originally erected with them. The true Orissan temple is like that represented in Woodcut No. 124, a building with two apartments only, and these astylar, or practically so: the pillars were only introduced in the comparatively modern additions.

The outline of this temple in elevation is not, at first sight,{421}

232. Plan of Great Temple at Bhuvaneswar. (Compiled partly from Plan in Babu Rajendra’s work, but corrected from Photographs.) (Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.)

pleasing to the European eye; but when once the eye is accustomed to it, it has a singularly solemn and pleasing aspect. It is a solid, and would be a plain square tower, but for the slight curve at the top, which takes off the hardness of the outline and introduces pleasingly the circular crowning object (Woodcut No. 233). As compared with that at Tanjore (Woodcut No. 191), it certainly is by far the finer design of the two. In plan the southern example is the larger, being 82 ft. square. This one is only 66 ft.[419] from angle to angle, though it is 75 ft. across the central projection. Their height is nearly the same, both of them being over 180 ft., but the upper part of the northern tower is so much more solid, that the cubic contents of the two are probably not very different. Besides, however, greater beauty in form, the northern example excels the other immeasurably in the fact that it is wholly in stone from the base to the apex, and—what, unfortunately, no woodcut can show—every inch of the surface is covered with carving in the most elaborate manner. It is not only the divisions of the courses, the roll-mouldings on the angles, or the breaks on the face of the tower: these are sufficient to relieve its flatness, and with any other people they would be deemed sufficient; but every individual stone in the tower has a pattern carved upon it, not so as to break its outline, but sufficient to relieve any idea of monotony. It is, perhaps, not an exaggeration to say that if it would take a sum—say a lakh of rupees or pounds—to erect such a building as this, it would take{422}

233. View of Great Temple, Bhuvaneswar. (From a Photograph.)

three lakhs to carve it as this one is carved. Whether such an outlay is judicious or not, is another question. Most people would be of opinion that a building four times as large would produce a greater and more imposing architectural effect; but this is not the way a Hindu ever looked at the matter. Infinite labour bestowed on every detail was the mode in which he thought he could render his temple most worthy of the deity; and, whether he was right or wrong, the effect of the whole is cer{423}tainly marvellously beautiful. It is not, however, in those parts of the building shown in the woodcut that the greatest amount of carving or design was bestowed, but in the perpendicular parts seen from the courtyard (Woodcut No. 234). There the sculpture is of a very high order and great beauty of design. This, however, ought not to surprise when we recollect that at Amravati, on the banks of the Kistnah, not far from the southern boundary of this kingdom, there stood a temple more delicate and elaborate in its carvings than any other building in India,[420] and that this temple had been finished probably not more than a century before the Kesari dynasty was established in Orissa; and though the history of art in India is written in decay, there was not much time for decline, and the dynasty was new and vigorous when this temple was erected.

234. Lower part of Great Tower at Bhuvaneswar. (From a Photograph.)

Attached to the Jagamohan of this temple is a Nat-mandir, or dancing-hall, whose date is, fortunately, perfectly well known, and enables us to measure the extent of this decay with almost absolute certainty. It was erected by the wife of Salini between the years 1099 and 1104.[421] It is elegant, of course, for art had not yet perished among the Hindus, but it differs from the style of the porch to which it is attached more than the leanest example of Tudor art differs from the vigour and grace of the buildings of the early Edwards. All that power of expression is gone which enabled the early architects to make small things look gigantic from the exuberance of labour bestowed upon them. A glance at the Nat-mandir{424} is sufficient for the mastery of its details. A week’s study of the Jagamohan would every hour reveal new beauties.

The last woodcut may convey some idea of the extent to which the older parts were elaborated: but even the photograph hardly enables any one not familiar with the style to realise how exquisite the combination of solidity of mass with exuberance of ornament really is.

During the four centuries and a half which elapsed between the erection of these two porches, Bhuvaneswar was adorned with some hundreds of temples, some dozen of which have been photographed, but hardly in sufficient detail to enable the student to classify them according to their dates. On the spot[422] it probably would be easy for any one trained to this class of study, and it would be a great gain if it were done. The group nearest in richness and interest is that at Khajurâho, mentioned above (p. 245); but that group belongs to an age just subsequent[423] to that of the Bhuvaneswar group, and only enables us to see that some of the most elaborate of the Cuttack temples may extend to the year 1000 or thereabouts. It is to this date that I would ascribe the erection of the Raj Rani temple. The names of those of which I have photographs, with their approximate data, are given in the list at the end of this chapter; but I refrain from burdening the text with their unpronounceable names, as I despair, by any reasonable number of woodcuts, of illustrating their marvellous details in anything like a satisfactory manner.

235. Plan of Raj Rani Temple. (Compiled from a Plan by Babu Rajendra, and corrected from Photographs.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

The Raj Rani temple, as will be seen from the woodcut (No. 235), is small; but the plan is arranged so as to give great variety and play of light and shade, and as the details are of the most exquisite beauty, it is one of the gems of Orissan art. The following woodcut (No. 236), without attempting to illustrate the art, is quoted as characteristic of the emblems of the Kesari line. Below the pillar are three kneeling elephants, over which domineer three lions, the emblems of the race. Above this a Nagni, or female Naga, with her seven-headed snake-hood, adorns the upper part of the pillar. They are to be found, generally in great numbers, in almost all the temples of the province. Over the doorway are the Nava{425}

236. Doorway in Raj Rani Temple. (From a Photograph.)

Graha, or nine planets, which are almost more universal, both in temples dedicated to Vishnu and in those belonging to the worship of Siva. Indeed, in so far as any external signs are concerned, there does not seem to be any means by which the temples of the two religions can be distinguished from one another. Throughout the province, from the time we first meet it, about A.D. 500, till it dies out about A.D. 1200, the style seems to be singularly uniform in its features, and it requires considerable familiarity with it to detect its gradual progress towards decay. Notwithstanding this, it is easy to perceive that there are two styles of architecture in Orissa, which ran side by side with one another during the whole course. The first is represented by the temples of Parasurameswara and Mukteswara (Woodcuts No. 230, 231); the second by the great temple (Woodcut No. 233). They are not antagonistic, but sister styles, and seem certainly to have had at least partially different origins. We can find affinities with that of the Mukteswara group in Dharwar and most parts of northern India: but I know of nothing exactly like the great temple anywhere else. It seems to be quite indigenous, and if not the most beautiful, it is the simplest and most majestic of the Indo-Aryan styles. It may look like riding a hobby to death, but I cannot help suspecting a wooden origin for it—the courses look so much more like carved logs of wood laid one upon another than courses of masonry, and the mode and extent to which they are carved certainly savours of the same material. There is a mosque built of Deodar pine in Kashmir, to be referred to hereafter, which certainly seems to favour this idea; but till we find some older temples than any yet discovered in Orissa this must remain in doubt. Meanwhile it may be well to point out that about one-half of the older temples in Orissa follow the type of the great temple, and one-half that of Mukteswara; but the two get confounded together in the 8th and 9th centuries, and are mixed{426} together into what may almost be called a new style in the Raj Rani and temples of the 10th and 11th centuries.

Kanaruc.

With, perhaps, the single exception of the temple of Juganât at Puri, there is no temple in India better known and about which more has been written than the so-called Black Pagoda at Kanaruc; nor is there any one whose date and dedication is better known, if the literature on the subject could be depended upon. Stirling does not hesitate in asserting that the present edifice, “as is well known, was built by the Raja Langora Narsingh Deo, in A.D. 1241, under the superintendence of his minister Shibai Sautra;”[424] and every one who has since written on the subject adopts this date without hesitation,[425] and the native records seem to confirm it. Complete as this evidence, at first sight, appears, I have no hesitation in putting it aside, for the simple reason that it seems impossible—after the erection of so degraded a specimen of the art as the temple of Puri (A.D. 1174)—the style ever could have reverted to anything so beautiful as this. In general design and detail it is so similar to the Jagamohan of the great temple at Bhuvaneswar that at first sight I should be inclined to place it in the same century; but the details of the tower exhibit a progress towards modern forms which is unmistakeable,[426] and render a difference of date of two or possibly even three centuries more probable. Yet the only written authority I know of for such a date is that given by Abul Fazl. After describing the temple, and ascribing it to Raja Narsingh Deo, in A.D. 1241, with an amount of detail and degree of circumstantiality which has deceived every one, he quietly adds that it is said “to be a work of 730 years’ antiquity.”[427] In other words, it was erected in A.D. 850 or A.D. 873, according to the date we assume for the composition of the Ayeen Akbery. If there were a king of that name among the Rois fainéants of the Kesari line, this would suffice; but no such name is found in the lists.[428] This, however, is not final; for in an inscription on the Brahmaneswar temple the queen, who built it, mentions the names of her husband, Udyalaka, and six of his{427} ancestors; but neither he nor any of them are to be found in the lists except the first, Janmejaya, and it is doubtful whether even he was a Kesari king or the hero of the ‘Mahabharata.’[429] In all this uncertainty we have really nothing to guide us but the architecture, and its testimony is so distinct that it does not appear to me doubtful that this temple really belongs to the latter half of the 9th century.

Another point of interest connected with this temple is, that all authors, apparently following Abul Fazl, agree that it was like the temple of Marttand, in Kashmir (ante, p. 287), dedicated to the sun. I have never myself seen a Sun temple in India, and being entirely ignorant of the ritual of the sect, I would not wish to appear to dogmatise on the subject; but I have already expressed my doubts as to the dedication of Marttand, and I may be allowed to repeat them here. The traces of Sun worship in Bengal are so slight that they have escaped me, as they have done the keen scrutiny of the late H. H. Wilson.[430]

In the Vedas it appears that Vishnu is called the Sun, or it may be the sun bears the name of Vishnu;[431] and this may account, perhaps, for the way in which the name has come to be applied to this temple, which differs in no other respect from the other temples of Vishnu found in Orissa. The architectural forms are identical; they are adorned with the same symbols. The Nava Graha, or nine planets, adorn the lintel of this as of all the temples of the Kesari line. The seven-headed serpent-forms are found on every temple of the race, from the great one at Bhuvaneswar to this one, and it is only distinguishable from those of Siva by the obscenities that disfigure a part of its sculptures. This is, unfortunately only too common a characteristic of Vaishnava temples all over India, but is hardly, if ever, found in Saiva temples, and never was, so far as I know, a characteristic of the worship of the Sun god.

Architecturally, the great beauty of this temple arises from the form of the design of the roof of the Jagamohan, or porch—the only part now remaining. Both in dimensions and detail, it is extremely like that of the great temple at Bhuvaneswar, but it is here divided into three storeys instead of two, which is an immense improvement, and it rises at a more agreeable angle. The first and second storeys consist of six cornices each, the third of five only, as shown in the{428} diagram Woodcut No. 124. The two lower ones are carved with infinite beauty and variety on all their twelve faces, and the antefixæ at the angles and breaks are used with an elegance and judgment a true Yavana could hardly have surpassed. There is, so far as I know, no roof in India where the same play of light and shade is obtained with an equal amount of richness and constructive propriety as in this instance, nor one that sits so gracefully on the base that supports it.

Internally, the chamber is singularly plain, but presents some constructive peculiarities worthy of attention. On the floor it is about 40 ft. square, and the walls rise plain to about the same height. Here it begins to bracket inwards, till it contracts to about 20 ft., where it was ceiled with a flat stone roof, supported by wrought-iron beams—Stirling says nine, nearly 1 ft. square by 12 ft. to 18 ft. long.[432] My measurements made the section less—8 in. to 9 in., but the length greater, 23 ft.; and Babu Rajendra points out that one, 21 ft. long, has a square section of 8 in. at the end, but a depth of 11 in. in the centre,[433] showing a knowledge of the properties and strength of the material that is remarkable in a people who are now so utterly incapable of forging such masses. The iron pillar at Delhi (Woodcut No. 281) is even a more remarkable example than this, and no satisfactory explanation has yet been given as to the mode in which it was manufactured. Its object, however, is plain, while the employment of these beams here is a mystery. They were not wanted for strength, as the building is still firm after they have fallen, and so expensive a false ceiling was not wanted architecturally to roof so plain a chamber. It seems to be only another instance of that profusion of labour which the Hindus loved to lavish on the temples of their gods.

Puri.

When from the capital we turn to Puri, we find a state of affairs more altered than might be expected from the short space of time that had elapsed between the building of the Black Pagoda and the celebrated one now found there. It is true the dynasty had changed. In 1131, the Kesari Vansa, with their Saiva worship, had been superseded by the Ganga Vansa, who were apparently as devoted followers of Vishnu; and they set to work at once to signalise their triumph by erecting the temple to Juganât, which has since acquired such a world-wide celebrity.{429}

It is not, of course, to be supposed that the kings of the Ganga line were the first to introduce the worship of Vishnu to Orissa. The whole traditions, as recorded by Stirling, contradict such an assumption, and the first temple erected on this spot to the deity is said to have been built by Yayati, the founder of the Kesari line.[434] He it was who recovered the sacred image of Juganât from the place where it had been buried 150 years before, on the invasion of the Yavanas, and a “new temple was erected by him on the site of the old one, which was found to be much dilapidated and overwhelmed with sand.”[435] This, of course, was before the arrival of the Ayodhya Brahmans alluded to above, who, though they may have retained possession of the capital during the continuance of the dynasty, did not apparently interfere with the rival worship in the provinces.

It would indeed be contrary to all experience if, in a country where Buddhism once existed, those who were followers of that faith had not degenerated first into Jainism and then into Vishnuism. At Udayagiri we have absolute proof in the caves of the first transition, and that it continued there till the time when the Mahrattas erected the little temple on the southern peak. In like manner, there seems little doubt that the tooth relic was preserved at Puri till the invasion of the Yavanas, apparently, as before mentioned, to obtain possession of it. According to the Buddhist version, it was buried in the jungle, but dug up again shortly afterwards, and conveyed to Ceylon.[436] According to the Brahmanical account, it was the image of Juganât, and not the tooth, that was hidden and recovered on the departure of the Yavanas, and then was enshrined at Juganât in a new temple on the sands. The tradition of a bone of Krishna being contained in the image[437] is evidently only a Brahmanical form of Buddhist relic worship, and, as has been frequently suggested, the three images of Juganât, his brother Balbhadra, and the sister Subhadhra, are only the Buddhist trinity—Buddha, Dharma, Sanga—disguised to suit the altered condition of belief among the common people. The pilgrimage, the Rât Jutra, the suspension of caste prejudices, everything in fact at Puri, is redolent of Buddhism, but of Buddhism so degraded as hardly to be recognisable by those who know that faith only in its older and purer form.

The degradation of the faith, however, is hardly so remarkable as that of the style. Even Stirling, who was no captious critic, remarks that it seems unaccountable, in an age when the architects obviously possessed some taste and skill, and were in most cases particularly lavish in the use of sculptural ornament, so little pains{430} should have been taken with the decoration and finishing of this sacred and stupendous edifice.[438] It is not, however, only in the detail, but the outline, the proportions, and every arrangement of the temple, show that the art in this province at least had received a fatal downward impetus from which it never recovered.

237. Plan of Temple of Juganât at Puri. (From a Plan by R. P. Mukerji.)

Scale 200 fᵗ. to the Inch

As will be seen from the annexed plan[439] (Woodcut No. 237), this temple has a double enclosure, a thing otherwise unknown in the north. Externally it measures 670 ft. by 640 ft., and is surrounded by a wall 20 ft. to 30 ft. high, with four gates. The inner enclosure measures 420 ft. by 315 ft., and is enclosed by a double wall with four openings. Within this last stands the Bara Dewul, A, measuring 80 ft. across the centre, or 5 ft. more than the great temple at Bhuvaneswar; with its porch or Jagamohan, B, it measures 155 ft. east and west, while the great tower rises to a height of 192 ft.[440] Beyond{431} this two other porches were afterwards added, the Nat-mandir, C, and Bhog-mandir, D, making the whole length of the temple about 300 ft., or as nearly as may be the same as that at Bhuvaneswar. Besides this there are, as in all great Hindu temples, numberless smaller shrines within the two enclosures, but, as in all instances in the north, they are kept subordinate to the principal one, which here towers supreme over all.

238. View of Tower of Temple of Juganât. (From a Photograph.)

Except in its double enclosure, and a certain irregularity of plan, this temple does not differ materially in arrangement from the great ones at Bhuvaneswar and elsewhere; but besides the absence of detail already remarked upon, the outline of its vimana is totally devoid either of that solemn solidity of the earlier examples, or the grace that characterised those subsequently erected; and when we add to this that whitewash and paint have done their worst to add vulgarity to forms already sufficiently ungraceful, it will easily be understood that{432} this, the most famous, is also the most disappointing of northern Hindu temples.[441] As may be seen from the preceding illustration (Woodcut No. 238), the parts are so nearly the same as those found in all the older temples at Bhuvaneswar, that the difference could hardly be expressed in words; even the woodcut, however, is sufficient to show how changed they are in effect, but the building itself should be seen fully to appreciate the degradation that has taken place.

Jajepur and Cuttack.

Jajepur, on the Byturni, was one of the old capitals of the province, and even now contains temples which, from the squareness of their forms, may be old, but, if so, they have been so completely disguised by a thick coating of plaster, that their carvings are entirely obliterated, and there is nothing by which their age can be determined. The place was long occupied by the Mahomedans, and the presence of a handsome mosque may account for the disappearance of some at least of the Hindu remains. There is one pillar, however, still standing, which deserves to be illustrated as one of the most pleasing examples of its class in India (Woodcut No. 239). Its proportions are beautiful, and its details in excellent taste; but the mouldings of the base, which are those on which the Hindus were accustomed to lavish the utmost care, have unfortunately been destroyed. Originally it is said to have supported a figure of Garuda—the Vahana of Vishnu—and a figure is pointed out as the identical one. It may be so, and if it is the case, the pillar is of the 12th or 13th century. This also seems to be the age of some remarkable pieces of sculpture which were discovered some years ago on the brink of the river, where they had apparently been hidden from Mahomedan bigotry. They are in{433} quite a different style from anything at Bhuvaneswar or Kanaruc, and probably more modern than anything at those places.

Cuttack became the capital of the country in A.D. 989-1006, when a certain Markut Kesari built a stone revêtement to protect the site from encroachment of the river.[442] It too, however, has suffered, first from the intolerant bigotry of the Moslem, and afterwards from the stolid indifference[443] of the British rulers, so that very little remains; but for this the nine-storeyed palace of Mukund Deo, the contemporary of Akbar, might still remain to us in such a state at least as to be intelligible. We hear so much, however, of these nine-storeyed palaces and viharas, that it may be worth while quoting Abul Fazl’s description of this one, in order to enable us to understand some of the allusions and descriptions we afterwards may meet with:—“In Cuttack,” he says, “there is a fine palace, built by Rajah Mukund Deo, consisting of nine storeys. The first storey is for elephants, camels, and horses; the second for artillery and military stores, where also are quarters for the guards and other attendants; the third is occupied by porters and watchmen; the fourth is appropriated for the several artificers; the kitchens make the fifth range; the sixth contains the Rajah’s public apartments; the seventh is for the transaction of private business; the eighth is where the women reside; and the ninth is the Rajah’s sleeping apartment. To the south,” he adds, “of this palace is a very ancient Hindu temple.”[444]

239. Hindu Pillar in Jajepur.

(From a Photograph.)

As Orissa at the period when this was written was practically a part of Akbar’s kingdom, there seems little doubt that this description was furnished by some one who knew the place. There are seven-storeyed palaces at Jeypur and Bijapur still standing, which were erected about this date, and one of five storeys in Akbar’s own palace at Futtehpore Sikri, but none, so far as I know, of nine{434} storeys, though I see no reason for doubting the correctness of the description of the one just quoted.

240. Hindu Bridge at Cuttack. (From a Photograph.)

Although it thus consequently happens that we have no more means of ascertaining what the civil edifices of the Indo-Aryans of Orissa were like, than we have of those of the contemporary Dravidians, there is a group of engineering objects which throw some light on the arts of the period. As has been frequently stated above, the Hindus hate an arch, and never will use it except under compulsion. The Mahomedans taught them to get over their prejudices and employ the arch in their civil buildings in later times, but to the present day they avoid it in their temples in so far as it is possible to do so. In Orissa, however, in the 13th century, they built numerous bridges in various parts of the province, but never employed a true arch in any of them. The Atarah Nullah bridge at Puri, built by Kebir Narsingh Deo, about 1250, has been drawn and described by Stirling, and is the finest in the province of those still in use. Between the abutments it is 275 ft. long, and with a roadway 35 ft. wide. That shown in the above woodcut (No. 240) is probably older, and certainly more picturesque, though constructed on the same identical plan. It may be unscientific, but many of{435} these old bridges are standing and in use, while many of those we have constructed out of the ruins of the temples and palaces have been swept away as if a curse were upon them.

Conclusion.

The above may be considered as a somewhat meagre account of one of the most complete and interesting styles of Indian architecture. It would, however, be impossible to do it justice without an amount of illustration incompatible with the scope of this work, and with details drawn on a larger scale than its pages admit of. It is to be hoped that Babu Rajendra’s work may, to some extent, at least, supply this deficiency. The first volume can only, however, be considered as introductory, being wholly occupied with preliminary matters, and avoiding all dates or descriptions of particular buildings. The second, when it appears, may remedy this defect, and it is to be hoped will do so, as a good monograph of the Orissan style would convey a more correct idea of what Indian art really is than a similar account of any other style we are acquainted with in India. From the erection of the temple of Parasurameswara, A.D. 500, to that of Juganât at Puri, A.D. 1174, the style steadily progresses without any interruption or admixture of foreign elements, while the examples are so numerous that one might be found for every fifty years of the period—probably for every twenty—and we might thus have a chronometric scale of Hindu art during these seven centuries that would be invaluable for application to other places or styles. It is also in Orissa, if anywhere that we may hope to find the incunabula that will explain much that is now mysterious in the forms of the temples and the origin of many parts of their ornamentation. An examination, for instance, of a hundred or so of the ruined and half-ruined temples of the province would enable any competent person to say at once how far the theory above enunciated (Woodcut No. 124)—to account for the curved form of the towers—was or was not in accordance with the facts of the case, and, if opposed to them, what the true theory of the curved form really was. In like manner, it seems hardly doubtful that a careful examination of a great number of examples would reveal the origin of the amalaka crowning ornament. I feel absolutely convinced, as stated above, that it did not grow out of the berry of the Phyllanthus emblica, and am very doubtful if it had a vegetable origin at all. But no one yet has suggested any other theory which will bear examination, and it is only from the earliest temples themselves that any satisfactory answer can be expected.

It is not only, however, that these and many other technical questions will be answered when any competent person undertakes a{436} thorough examination of the ruins, but they will afford a picture of the civilization and of the arts and religion of an Indian community during seven centuries of isolation from external influences, such as can hardly be obtained from any other source. So far as we at present know, it is a singularly pleasing picture, and one that will well repay any pains that may be taken to present it to the English public in a complete and intelligible form.

Tentative List of Dates and Dimensions of the Principal Orissan Temples.

Dates. |  | External Dimensions of Towers. |  | Internal Dimensions of Cells.
| ft. |  | ft. |  | ft. |  | ft.
500-600 | { Parasurameswara | 20 | × | 20 |  | 11 | × | 9
{ Mukteswara | 14 | × | 14 |  | 6 | × | 6
600-700 | { Sari Dewala | 24 | × | 22 |  | 12 | × | 12
{ Moitre Serai
{ Ananta Vasu Deva | 26 | × | 26 |  | 16 | × | 14
657 | ...Bhuvaneswar | 66 | × | 60 |  | 42 | × | 42
700-850 | { Sideswara
{ Vitala Devi
{ Markandeswara in Puri
{ Brahmeswara
873 | ...Kanaruc | 60 | × | 60 |  | 40 | × | 40 (?)
900-1000 | { Kedareswar
{ Raj Rani | 32 | × | 25 |  | 12 | × | 12
1104 | ...Nat Mandir at Bhuvaneswar
1198 | ...Juganât, Puri | 73 | × | 73 |  | 29 | × | 29[445]

{437}

## CHAPTER III.
WESTERN INDIA.

CONTENTS.

Dharwar—Brahmanical Rock-cut Temples.

Dharwar.

If the province of Orissa is interesting from the completeness and uniformity of its style of Indo-Aryan architecture, that of Dharwar, or, more correctly speaking of Maharastra, is almost equally so from exactly the opposite conditions. In the western province, the Dravidian style struggles with the northern for supremacy during all the earlier stages of their growth, and the mode in which the one influenced the other will be one of the most interesting and instructive lessons we can learn from their study, when the materials exist for a thorough investigation of the architectural history of this province. In magnificence, however, the western can never pretend to rival the eastern province. There are more and far finer buildings in the one city of Bhuvaneswar alone than in all the cities of Maharastra put together, and the extreme elaboration of their details gives the Orissan examples a superiority that the western temples cannot pretend to rival.

Among the oldest and most characteristic of the Dharwar temples is that of Papanatha, at Purudkul, or Pittadkul, as it is now spelt. As will be seen from the plan of this temple given above (Woodcut No. 122, page 221), the cell, with its tower, has not the same predominating importance which it always had in Orissa; and instead of a mere vestibule it has a four-pillared porch, which would in itself be sufficient to form a complete temple on the eastern side of India. Beyond this, however, is the great porch, Mantapa, or Jagamohan—square, as usual, but here it possesses sixteen pillars, in four groups, instead of the astylar arrangements so common in the east. It is, in fact, a copy, with very slight alterations, of the plan of the great Saiva temple at the same place (Woodcut No. 189), or the Kylas at Ellora (Woodcut No. 186). These, with others recently brought to light, form a group of early temples wholly Dravidian in style, but having no affinity, except in plan, with the Temple of{438} Papanatha, which is as essentially Indo-Aryan in all its architectural arrangements. This, in fact, may be looked upon as the characteristic difference between the styles of Dharwar and Orissa. The western style, from its proximity to the Dravidian and admixture with it, in fact, used pillars freely and with effect whenever wanted; while their use in Orissa is almost unknown in the best ages of the style, and their introduction, as it took place there, showed only too clearly the necessity that had arisen in the decay of the style, to supply with foreign forms the want of originality of invention.

241. View of Temple of Papanatha at Pittadkul. (From a Photograph.)

The external effect of the building may be judged of from the above woodcut (No. 241). The outline of the tower is not unlike that of the Parasurameswara temple at Bhuvaneswar, with which it was probably contemporary—circa A.D. 500—but the central belt is more pronounced, and always apparently was on the west side of India. It will also be observed in this tower that every third course has on the angle a form which has just been described as an amalaka in speaking of the crowning members of Orissan temples. Here it looks{439} as if the two intermediate courses simulated roofs, or a roof in two storeys, and then this crowning member was introduced, and the same thing repeated over and over again till the requisite height was obtained. In the Parasurameswara there are three intermediate courses (Woodcut No. 230); in the great tower at Bhuvaneswar, five; and in the more modern temples they disappear from the angles, but are supplied by the miniature temple-forms applied to the sides. In the temple at Buddh Gaya the same form occurs (Woodcut No. 16) on the angle of each storey; but there it looks more like the capital of a pillar, which, in fact, I believe to be its real original. But from whatever form derived, this repetition on the angles is in the best possible taste; the eye is led upwards by it, and is prepared for the crowning member, which is thus no longer isolated and alone, but a part of a complete design.

The frequency of the repetition of this ornament is, so far as is now known, no bad test of the age of a temple. If an example were found where every alternate course was an amalaka, it probably would be older than any temple we have yet known. It would then represent a series of roofs, five, seven, or nine storeys, built over one another. It had, however, passed into conventionalities before we meet with it.

Whenever the temples of this district are thoroughly investigated, they will, no doubt, throw immense light on the early history of the style.[446] As the case now stands, however, the principal interest centres in the caves of Badami, which being the only Brahmanical caves known that have positive dates upon them, they give us a fixed point from which to reason in respect of other series such as we have never had before. For the present, they must make way for other examples better known and of more general architectural interest.

Brahmanical Rock-cut Temples.

Although the structural temples of the Badami group[447] in Dharwar are of such extreme interest, as has been pointed out above, they are surpassed in importance, for our present purposes at least, by the rock-cut examples.

{440}

At Badami there are three caves, not of any great dimensions, but of singular interest from their architectural details and sculptures, and more so from the fact that one of them, No. 3, contains an inscription with an undoubted date upon it. There are, as pointed out above, innumerable Buddhist inscriptions on the western caves, but none with dates from any well-ascertained era, and none, unfortunately, of the Brahmanical caves at Ellora or elsewhere have inscriptions that can be called integral, and not one certainly with a date on it. The consequence is, that the only mode by which their ages could be approximated was by arranging them in sequences, according to our empirical or real knowledge of the history of the period during which they were supposed to have been excavated. At Ellora, for instance, it was assumed that the Buddhist preceded the Brahmanical excavations, and that these were succeeded by the Jaina; and various local and architectural peculiarities rendered this hypothesis extremely probable. Arguing on this basis, it was found that the one chaitya cave there, the Viswakarma, was nearly identical in style with the last of the four chaityas at Ajunta (No. 26), and that cave, for reasons given above, was placed at the end of the 6th century, say A.D. 600. The caves next it were assumed to occupy the 7th century, thus leading on to the Rameswara group, about A.D. 700, and the Jaina group would then have occupied the next century. The age of the Kylas or Dravidian group, being exceptional, could only be determined by extraneous evidence, and, as already pointed out, from its extreme similarity with the great temple at Pittadkul, belongs almost certainly to the 8th century; and from a similar chain of reasoning the Jaina group is brought back to about the same age, or rather earlier, say A.D. 650.

The inscription on the No. 3 cave at Badami is dated in the twelfth year of the reign of a well-known king, Mangaliswara, in the 500th year after the inauguration of the Saka king, or in 79; the date therefore is A.D. 579. Admitting, which I think its architecture renders nearly certain, that it is the earliest of the three, still they are so like one another, that the latest must be assumed to have been excavated within the limits of the next century, say A.D. 575-700. Comparing the architecture of this group with that known as the central or Rameswara group at Ellora, it is so nearly identical, that though it may be slightly more modern, it can hardly now be doubted they too, including perhaps the cave known as the Ashes of Ravana, must have been excavated in the 7th century. Instead, therefore, of the sequence formerly adopted, we are forced to fall back on that marvellous picture of religious toleration described by the Chinese Pilgrim as exhibited at Allahabad in the year A.D. 643. On that occasion the King Siladitya distributed alms or gifts to 10,000 priests (religieux), the first day in honour of Buddha, the second of Aditya the Sun (Vishnu?), and the third in honour of Iswara or{441} Siva;[448] and the eighteen kings who assisted at this splendid quinquennial festival seem promiscuously to have honoured equally these three divinities. With this toleration at head-quarters, we ought not to be surprised if we find the temples of the three religions overlapping one another to some extent.

The truth of the matter is, that one of the greatest difficulties an antiquary experiences before the 8th century, is to ascertain to what divinity any temple or a cave is dedicated. In the three caves, for instance, at Badami, the sculptures are wholly Vaishnava, and no one would doubt that they were dedicated to that deity, but in the sanctuaries of all is the lingam or emblem of Siva. It has been suggested that this may have been an afterthought, but if so the cave must have been without meaning. There is no sinhasan or throne on which an image of a deity could be placed, nor is the cell large enough for that purpose.

Unfortunately there are no Buddhist buildings or caves so far south as Badami, and we are consequently deprived of that means for comparison; and before anything very definite can be laid down, it will require that some one familiar with the subject should go over the whole of the western caves, and institute a rigid comparison of their details. Meanwhile, however, the result of the translations of the inscriptions gathered by Mr. Burgess, and of his plans and views,[449] is that we must compress our history of the western caves within narrower limits than originally seemed necessary.[450] The buildings in the Dharwar district seem all to be comprised between the years 500 and 750 A.D., with probably a slight extension either way, and those at Ellora being certainly synchronous, must equally be limited to the same period of time.

Pending a more complete investigation, which I hope may be undertaken before long, I would propose the following as a tentative chronology of the far-famed series of caves at Ellora:—

Buddhist:—Viswakarma to Das Avatara |  | A.D. 500-600
Jaina:—Indra, Juganât, Subhas, &c. |  | 550-650
Hindu:—Rameswara to Dhumnar Lena |  | 600-750
Dravidian:—Kylas |  | 725-800

The cave at Elephanta follows of course the date here given for the Dhumnar Lena, and must thus date after the middle of the 8th century.[451]{442}

These dated caves and buildings have also rendered another service to the science of archæology, inasmuch as they enable us to state with confidence that the principal caves at Mahavellipore must be circumscribed within the same limits. The architecture there being so lean and poor, is most misleading, but, as hinted above, I believe it arose from the fact that it was Dravidian, and copied literally from structural buildings, by people who had not the long experience of the Buddhists in cave architecture to guide them, for there seems to have been no Buddhists so far south. But be that as it may, a comparison of the Hindu sculptures at Badami with those of Ellora on the one hand, and Mahavellipore on the other, renders it almost absolutely certain that they were practically contemporary. The famous bas-relief of Durga, on her lion, slaying Mahasura, the Minotaur,[452] is earlier than one very similar to it at Ellora; and one, the Viratarupa,[453] is later by probably a century than the sculpture of the same subject in cave 3 at Badami.[454] Some of the other bas-reliefs are later, some earlier, than those representing similar subjects in the three series, but it seems now impossible to get over the fact that they are practically synchronous. Even the great bas-relief, which I was inclined to assign to a more modern period, probably belongs to the 7th or 8th century. The great Naga king, whom all the world are there worshipping, is represented as a man whose head is shaded by a seven-headed serpent-hood, but also with a serpent-body from the waist downwards. That form was not known in the older Buddhist sculptures, but has now been found on all the Orissan temples (for instance Woodcut No. 236), and nearly as frequently at Badami.[455] This difficulty being removed, there seems no reason why this gigantic sculpture should not take the place, which its state of execution would otherwise assign to it—say A.D. 700—as a mean date, subject to subsequent adjustment.

In a general work like the present it is of course impossible to illustrate so extensive a group as that of the Brahmanical caves to such an extent as to render their history or affinities intelligible to those who have not by other means become familiar with the subject. Fortunately, however, in this instance the materials exist by which any one may attain the desired information with very little difficulty. Daniell’s drawings—or rather Mr. Wales’—made in 1795, have long made the public acquainted with the principal caves at Ellora; Sir Charles Malet’s paper in the sixth volume of the ‘Asiatic Researches;’ Seely’s ‘Wonders of Ellora,’ published in 1820, and numerous other works, with the photographs now available, supply nearly all that can be desired in that direction. The same may be said of Elephanta,{443} which has been exhaustively treated by Mr. Burgess in the work above referred to. Chambers’ paper in the second volume of the ‘Transactions of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ supplies, with Dr. Hunter’s photographs, a vast amount of information regarding the Mahavellipore antiquities; and Mr. Burgess’s recent report on the Dharwar caves completes, to a great extent, the information wanted to understand the peculiarities of the group. Notwithstanding this, it is well worthy of a monograph, insomuch as it affords the only representation of the art and mythology of the Hindus on the revival of their religion, which was commenced by the Guptas A.D. 318-465, but really inaugurated by the great Vicramaditya, A.D. 495-530, and which, when once started, continued to nourish till the great collapse in the 8th century.

242. Pillar in Kylas, Ellora.

(From a Drawing by the Author.)

After all, however, the subject is one more suited to the purposes of the mythologist and the sculptor than to the architect. Like all rock-cut examples, except the Dravidian, the caves have the intolerable defect of having no exteriors, and consequently no external architectural form. The only parts of them which strictly belong to architectural art are their pillars, and though a series of them would be interesting, they vary so much, from the nature of the material in which they are carved, and from local circumstances, that they do not possess the same historical significance that external forms would afford. Such a pillar, for instance, as this one from the cave called Lanka, on the side of the pit in which the Kylas stands (Woodcut No. 242), though in exquisite taste as a rock-cut example, where the utmost strength is apparently required to support the mass of rock above, does not afford any points of comparison with structural examples of the same age. In a building it would be cumbersome and absurd; under a mass of rock it is elegant and appropriate. The pillars in the caves at Mahavellipore fail from the opposite fault: they retain their structural form, though used in the rock, and look frail and weak in consequence; but while this diversity in practice prevailed, it prevents their use as a chronometric{444} scale being appreciated, as it would be if the practice had been uniform. As, however, No. 3 at Badami is a cave with a positive date, A.D. 579, it may be well to give a plan and section (Woodcuts Nos. 243 and 244) to illustrate its peculiarities, so as to enable a comparison to be made between it and other examples. Its details will be found fully illustrated in Mr. Burgess’s report.

243. Plan of Cave No. 3, Badami.
(From a Plan by Mr. Burgess.)
Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

244. Section of Cave No. 3, Badami. (From a Drawing by Mr. Burgess.) Scale 25 ft. to 1 in.

Though not one of the largest, it is still a fine cave, its verandah measuring 70 ft., with a depth of 50 ft., beyond which is a simple plain cell, containing the lingam. At one end of the verandah is the Narasingha Avatar; at the other end Vishnu seated on the five-headed serpent Ananta. The front pillars have each three brackets, of very wooden design, all of which are ornamented by two or three figures, generally a male and female, with a child or dwarf—all of considerable beauty and delicacy of execution. The inner pillars are varied, and more architectural in their forms, but in the best style of Hindu art.

Compared with the style of art found at Amravati, on the opposite coast, it is curious to observe how nearly Buddha, seated on the many-headed Naga,[456] resembles Vishnu on Ananta in the last woodcut, and though the religion is changed, the art has hardly altered to such an extent as might be expected, considering that two centuries had probably elapsed between the execution of these two bas-reliefs. The change of religion, however, is complete, for though Buddha does appear at Badami, it is in the very subordinate position of the ninth Avatar of Vishnu.[457]

Sometimes the Hindus successfully conquered one of the main difficulties of cave architecture by excavating them on the spur of a{445} hill, as at the Dhumnar Lena at Ellora, or by surrounding them by courts, as at Elephanta; so that light was introduced on three sides instead of only one, as was too often the case both with Buddhist and Hindu excavations. These two, though probably among the last, are certainly the finest Hindu excavations existing, if looked at from an architectural point of view. The Ellora example is the larger and finer, measuring 150 ft. each way (Woodcut No. 245). That at Elephanta, though extremely similar in general arrangement, is less regular in plan, and also somewhat smaller, measuring only 130 ft. by 120 ft. It is easy to see that if these temples stood in the open they would only be porches, like that at Baillûr (Woodcut No. 221), and numberless other examples, which are found everywhere; but the necessities of rock-cut architecture required that the cella should be placed inside the mantapa, or porch, instead of externally to it, as was always the case in structural examples. This, perhaps, was hardly to be regretted; but it shows how little the practice of cutting temples in the rock was suited to the temple-forms of the Hindus, and we need not, therefore, feel surprised how readily they abandoned it when any idea of rivalling the Buddhists had ceased to prompt their efforts in this direction.

245. Dhumnar Lena Cave at Ellora. (From Daniell’s ‘Views in Hindostan.’) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

So far as I know, there is only one example where the Indo-Aryan architects attempted to rival the Dravidian in producing a monolithic exterior. It is at a place called Dhumnar, in Rajputana, where, as already mentioned (ante, p. 162), there is an extensive series of late Buddhist excavations. In order to mark their triumph over that fallen faith, the Hindus, apparently in the 8th century, drove an open cutting into the side of the hill, till they came to a part high enough for their purpose. Here they enlarged this cutting into a pit 105 ft. by 70 ft., leaving a temple of very elegant architecture standing in the centre, with seven small cells surrounding it, precisely as was done in the case of the Kylas at Ellora. The effect, however, can hardly be said to be pleasing (Woodcut No. 246). A temple standing in a pit is always an anomaly, but in this instance it is valuable as an unaltered example of the style, and as showing how small shrines—which have too often disappeared—were originally{446} grouped round the greater shrines. The value of this characteristic we shall be better able to appreciate when we come to describe the temples at Brambanam and other places in Java. When the Jains adopted the architecture of the Buddhists, they filled their residential cells with images, and made them into little temples, and the Hindus seem to some extent to have adopted the same practice as here exemplified, but never carried it to the same extent.

246. Rock-cut Temple at Dhumnar. (From a plan by Gen. Cunningham.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

247. Saiva Temple near Poonah. (From a Sketch by Daniell.)

With a sufficient number of examples, it would be easy to trace the rise and fall of this cellular system, and few things would be more interesting; for now that we find it in full force in the Buddhist monasteries at Gandhara (ante, p. 171), it would be most important to be able to say exactly when the monk made way to the image. In India Proper there is no instance of this being done in{447} Buddhist times, or before A.D. 650, and hitherto we have been in the habit of considering it a purely Jaina arrangement. This must now be modified, but the question still remains—to what extent should this be done?

One more illustration must conclude what we have at present to say of Hindu rock-cut temples. It is found near Poonah, and is very little known, though much more appropriate to cave architecture than most examples of its class. The temple itself is a simple pillared hall, with apparently ten pillars in front, and probably had originally a structural sikra built on the upper plateau to mark the position of the sanctuary. The most original part of it, however, is the Nundi pavilion, which stands in the courtyard in front of the temple (Woodcut No. 247). It is circular in plan, and its roof—which is a great slab of rock—is supported by, apparently, sixteen square pillars of very simple form. Altogether it is as appropriate a bit of design as is to be found in Hindu cave architecture. It has, however, the defect only too common in those Hindu excavations—that, being in a pit, it can be looked down upon; which is a test very few buildings can stand, and to which none ought to be exposed.{448}

## CHAPTER IV.
CENTRAL AND NORTHERN INDIA.

CONTENTS.

Temples at Gualior, Khajurâho, Udaipur, Benares, Bindrabun, Kantonuggur, Amritsur.

There are certainly more than one hundred temples in Central and Northern India which are well worthy of being described in detail, and, if described and illustrated, would convey a wonderful impression of the fertility in invention of the Hindu mind and of the elegance with which it was capable of expressing itself. None of these temples can make the smallest pretension to rival the great southern examples in scale; they are all, indeed, smaller even than the greater of Orissan examples; and while some of them surpass the Orissan temples in elegance of form, many rival them in the profuse elaboration of minute ornamental details.

None of these temples—none, at least, that are now complete—seem to be of any great antiquity. At Erun, in the Saugor territory, are some fragments of columns, and several sculptures that seem to belong to the flourishing age of the Guptas, say about A.D. 450; and in the Mokundra Pass there are the remains of a choultrie that may be as old, or older, but it is a mere fragment,[458] and has no inscription upon it.

Among the more complete examples, the oldest I know of, and consequently the most beautiful, is the porch or temple at Chandravati, near Jahra Puttun, in Rajputana. In its neighbourhood Colonel Tod found an inscription, dated A.D. 691,[459] which at one time I thought might have been taken from this temple, and consequently might give its date, which would fairly agree with the style,[460] judged from that of some of the caves at Ellora, which it very much resembles.{449} As recent discoveries, however, have forced us to carry their dates further back by at least a century, it is probable that this too must go back to about the year 600, or thereabouts. Indeed, with the Chaöri in the Mokundra Pass, and the pillars at Erun, this Chandravati fragment completes the list of all we at present can feel sure of having been erected before the dark ages. There may be others, and, if so, it would be well they were examined, for this is certainly one of the most elegant specimens of architecture in India (Woodcut No. 248). It has not the poetry of arrangement of the Jaina octagonal domes, but it approaches very nearly to them by the large square space in the centre, which was covered by the most elegantly designed and most exquisitely carved roof known to exist anywhere. Its arrangement is evidently borrowed from that of Buddhist viharas, and it differs from them in style because their interiors were always plastered and painted; here, on the contrary, everything is honestly carved in stone.[461]

248. Temple at Chandravati.

Leaving these fragments, one of the oldest, and certainly one of the most perfect, in Central India is the now desecrated temple at Barrolli, situated in a wild and romantic spot, not far from the falls of the Chumbul, whose distant roar in the still night is the only sound that breaks the silence of the solitude around them. The principal temple, represented in the Woodcut No. 249, may probably be added to the list of buildings enumerated above as erected before 750 A.D. It certainly is at least a century more modern than that at Chandravati, and, pending a more precise determination, may be ascribed to the 8th or 9th century, and is one of the few of that age now known which were originally dedicated to Siva. Its general outline is identical with that of the contemporary Orissan{450}

249. Temple at Barrolli. (From a Drawing by the Author.)

250. Plan of Temple at Barrolli. (From Drawings by the Author.)

temples. But instead of the astylar enclosed porch, or mantapa, it has a pillared portico of great elegance, whose roof reaches half-way up the temple, and is sculptured with a richness and complexity of design almost unrivalled, even in those days of patient prodigality of labour. It will be observed in the plan (Woodcut No. 250) that{451} the dimensions are remarkably small, and the temple is barely 60 ft. high, so that its merit consists entirely in its shape and proportions, and in the elegance and profusion of the ornament that covers it.

In front of the temple is a detached porch, here called a Chaöri, or nuptial hall (the same word, I believe, as Choultrie in the south), in which tradition records the marriage of a Huna (Hun) prince to a Rajputni bride, for which purpose it is said to have been erected;[462] but whether this is so or not, it is one of the finest examples of such detached halls known in the north. We miss here the octagonal dome of the Jains, which would have given elegance and relief to its ceiling, though the variety in the spacing of the columns has been attained by a different process. The dome was seldom if ever employed in Hindu architecture, but they seem to have attempted to gain sufficient relief to their otherwise monotonous arrangement of columns by breaking up the external outline of the plan of the mantapa, and by ranging the aisles diagonally across the building, instead of placing them parallel to the sides.

The other two temples here are somewhat taller and more pointed in their form, and are consequently either more modern in date, or if of the same age—which may possibly be the case—would bring the date of the whole group down to the 10th century, which, after all, may be their true date, though I am at present inclined to think the more ancient date more consistent with our present knowledge.

251. Pillar in Barrolli.
(From a Plate in Tod’s ‘Annals of Rajastan.’)

A little way from the great temple are two pillars, one of which is here represented (Woodcut No. 251). They evidently supported one of those torans, or triumphal archways, which succeeded the gateways of the Buddhist topes, and form frequently a very pleasing adjunct to Hindu temples. They are, however, frail edifices at best, and easily overthrown, wherever the bigotry of the Moslems came into play.{452}

Gualior.

One temple, existing in the fortress of Gualior, has been already described under the title of the Jaina Temple (ante, p. 244), though whether it is Jaina or Vaishnava is by no means easily determined. At the same place there is another, bearing the not very dignified name of the Teli ka Mandir, or Oilman’s Temple (Woodcut No. 252). It is a square of 60 ft. each way, with a portico on the east projecting about 11 ft. Unlike the other temples we have been describing, it does not terminate upwards in a pyramid, nor is it crowned by an amalaka, but in a ridge of about 30 ft. in extent, which may originally have had three amalakas upon it. I cannot help believing that this form of temple was once more common than we now find it. There are several examples of it at Mahavellipore (Woodcuts Nos. 181, 182), evidently copied from a form common among the Buddhists, and one very beautiful example is found at Bhuvaneswar,[463] there called Kapila Devi, and dedicated to Siva. The Teli ka Mandir was originally dedicated to Vishnu, but afterwards converted to the worship of Siva. There is no inscription or any tradition from which its date can be gathered, but on the whole I am inclined to place it in the 10th or 11th century.

Khajurâho.

As mentioned above, the finest and most extensive group of temples belonging to the northern or Indo-Aryan style of architecture is that gathered round the great temple at Bhuvaneswar. They are also the most interesting historically, inasmuch as their dates extend through five or six centuries, and they alone consequently enable us to bridge over the dark ages of Indian art. From its remote situation, Orissa seems to have escaped, to a great extent at least, from the troubles that agitated northern and western India during the 8th and 9th centuries; and though from this cause we can find nothing in Central India to fill up the gap between Chandravati and Gualior, in Orissa the series is complete, and, if properly examined and described, would afford a consecutive history of the style from say 500 to 1100 or 1200 A.D.

Next in interest and extent to the Bhuvaneswar group is that at Khajurâho,[464] in Bundelcund, as before mentioned (p. 245). At{453}

252. Teli ka Mandir, Gualior. (From a Photograph.)

{454}

this place there are now to be found some thirty important temples, all of which, with the exception of the Chaonsat Jogini and the Ganthai, described when treating of Jaina architecture, are of the same or nearly the same age. Nor is it difficult, from their style and from the inscriptions gathered by General Cunningham, to see what that age was. The inscriptions range from A.D. 954 to A.D. 1001; and though it is not clear to what particular temple they apply, we shall not probably err much if we assign the whole twenty-eight temples he enumerates to the century beginning 950 and ending 1050, with a margin of a few years either way. What renders this group more than usually interesting is, that the Khajurâho temples are nearly equally divided between the three great Indian religions: one-third being Jaina, one-third Vaishnava, and the remainder Saiva; and all being contemporary, it conveys an impression of toleration we were hardly prepared for after the struggles of the preceding centuries, though it might have been expected three centuries earlier.

A curious result of this toleration or community of feeling is, that the architecture of all the three groups is so similar that, looking to it alone, no one could say to which of the three religions any particular temple belonged. It is only when their sculptures are examined that their original destination becomes apparent, and even then there are anomalies which it is difficult to explain. A portion, for instance, of the sculptures of the principal Saiva temple—the Kandarya Mahadeo—are of a grossly indecent character;[465] the only instance, so far as I know, of anything of the sort being found in a Saiva temple, that bad pre-eminence being reserved to temples belonging to the worshippers of Vishnu. It is possible that it may originally have belonged to the latter sect; but, taking all the circumstances into consideration, this is most unlikely, and the fact must be added to many others to prove how mixed together the various sects were even at that time, and how little antagonistic they then were to each other.

The general character of these temples may be gathered from the annexed representation (Woodcut No. 253) of the principal Saiva temple, the Kandarya Mahadeo. As will be seen from the plan (Woodcut No. 254), it is 109 ft. in length, by 60 ft. in breadth over all, and externally is 116 ft. above the ground, and 88 ft. above its own floor. Its basement, or perpendicular part, is, like all the great temples here, surrounded by three rows of sculptured figures. General Cunningham counted 872 statues on and in this temple, ranging from 2½ ft. to 3 ft. in height, or about half life-size, and they are mixed up with a profusion of vegetable forms and conventional details which defy description. The vimana, or tower, it will be observed, is built{455}

253. Kandarya Mahadeo, Khajurâho. (From a Photograph.)

{456}

up of smaller repetitions of itself, which became at this age one of the favourite modes of decoration, and afterwards an essential feature of the style. Here it is managed with singular grace, giving great variety and play of light and shade, without unnecessarily breaking up the outline. The roof of the porch, as seen in front, is a little confused, but as seen on the flank it rises pleasingly step by step till it abuts against the tower, every part of the internal arrangement being appropriately distinguished on the exterior.

254. Plan of Kandarya Mahadeo, Khajurâho. (From a Plan by Gen. Cunningham.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

If we compare the design of the Jaina temple (Woodcut No. 136) with that of this building, we cannot but admit that the former is by far the most elegant, but on the other hand the richness and vigour of the Mahadeo temple redeem its want of elegance and fascinates in spite of its somewhat confused outline. The Jaina temple is the legitimate outcrop of the class of temples that originated in the Great Temple at Bhuvaneswar, while the Kandarya Mahadeo exhibits a complete development of that style of decoration which resulted in continued repetition of itself on a smaller scale to make up a complete whole. Both systems have their advantages, but on the whole the simpler seems to be preferable to the more complicated mode of design.

Udaipur.

The examples already given will perhaps have sufficed to render the general form of the Indo-Aryan temple familiar to the reader, but as no two are quite like one another, their variety is infinite. There is one form, however, which became very fashionable about the 11th century, and is so characteristic that it deserves to be illustrated. Fortunately a very perfect example exists at a place called Udaipur, near Bhilsa, in the Bhopal territory.

As will be seen from the Woodcut (No. 255) the porch is covered with a low pyramidal roof, placed diagonally on the substructure, and rising in steps, each of which is ornamented with vases or urns of varying shapes. The tower is ornamented by four flat bands, of great beauty and elegance of design, between each of which are thirty-five little repetitions of itself, placed one above the other in five tiers, the whole surmounted by an amalaka, and an urn of very elegant design. As every part of this is carved with great precision and delicacy, and as the whole is quite perfect at the present{457} day, there are few temples of its class which give a better idea of the style than this one. Fortunately, too, its date is perfectly well known. From an inscription copied by Lieutenant Burt, it appears it was erected by a king who was reigning at Malwa, in the year 1060 of our era.[466]

255. Temple at Udaipur.

At Kallian, in Bombay harbour, there is a temple called Ambernath, very similar to this, on making drawings and casts from which the{458} Bombay government has lately spent a good deal of money.[467] It is, however, in a very ruinous state, and even when perfect could never have been equal to this one at Udaipur, and to many others on which the money might have been better laid out. In it there is a slab with an inscription, dated in the Saka year 782, or A.D. 860.[468] It is not quite clear, however, whether this inscription belongs to the temple which we now see, or to an earlier one, fragments of which are found built into the vimana of the present one. If the date of the temple is that just quoted, as Dr. Bhau Daji would have us believe, all that can be said is that it is utterly anomalous. If it is in A.D. 1070, as another inscription he quotes found near the place might lead us to infer,[469] it accords with all else we know of the style.

One other illustration must complete what we now have to say regarding these Indo-Aryan temples. It is one of the most modern of the style, having been erected by Meera Baie, the wife of Khumbo Rana of Chittore (A.D. 1418-1468). Khumbo was, as is well known, devoted to the Jaina faith, having erected the temple at Sadri (Woodcut No. 133), and the Pillar of Victory (Woodcut No. 143); yet here we find him and his wife erecting in their capital two temples dedicated to Vishnu. The king’s temple, which is close by, is very much smaller than this one, for which his wife gets credit. In plan, the only peculiarity is that the pradakshina, or procession-path round the cell, is here an open colonnade, with four little pavilions at the four corners, and this is repeated in the portico in the manner shown in the annexed diagram (Woodcut No. 256).

256. Diagram explanatory of the Plan of Meera Baie’s Temple, Chittore. No scale.

The roof of the portico, in the form of a pyramid, is placed diagonally as at Udaipur, while the tower itself is of so solid and unbroken an outline, that it might at first sight be ascribed to a much earlier date than the 15th century (Woodcut No. 257). When, however, it is closely looked at, we miss the frequent amalaka bands and other ornamental features of earlier times, and the crowning members are more unlike those of ancient temples. The curve, too, of its outline is regular from base to summit, and consequently feebler than that of the older examples; but taking it all in all, it certainly is more like an ancient temple than any other of its age I am acquainted with. It was a revival, the last expiring effort of a style that was dying out, in that form at least.{459}

257. Temple of Vriji, Chittore. (From a Photograph.)

Vishveshwar, Benares.

If you ask a Brahman of Benares to point out to you the most ancient temple of his city, he inevitably leads you to the Vishveshwar, as not only the most holy, but the oldest of its sacred edifices. Yet it is known, and cannot be disputed, that the temple, as it now stands, was erected from the foundation in the last century, to replace one that had been thrown down and desecrated by the bigot Aurungzebe. This he did in order that he might erect on the most venerated spot of the Hindus his mosque, whose tall minarets still rear their heads in insult over all the Hindu buildings of the city. The strange thing is, that in this assertion the Brahmans are not so very{460}

258. Temple of Vishveshwar. (From Prinsep’s ‘Views in Benares.’) No scale.

far from representing the true state of the case. There is hardly any great city in Hindustan that can show so few evidences of antiquity as Benares. The Buddhist remains at Sarnath hardly can be said to belong to the city, and even there they are, as above explained, the most modern examples of their class in India. The fact is, that the oldest buildings in the city are the Moslem tombs and buildings about the Bukariya Kund, and they almost certainly belong to the 15th century. Even the temple of Vishveshwar, which Aurungzebe destroyed, was not erected before the reign of his predecessor Akbar. The style is so nearly identical with that of known buildings of his reign, at Muttra and elsewhere, that there can be no doubt on this head. When desecrated it was the principal, and probably the most splendid, edifice of its class in the city. It may be, and probably is true, that the Vedic Brahmans erected their fire{461} altars, and worshipped the sun, and paid adoration to the elements on this spot 4000 years ago. It may be also that the emblem of Siva has attracted admiring crowds to this spot for the last 1000 years; but there is no material evidence that before the time of Akbar (A.D. 1556-1605) any important permanent building was ever erected there to dignify the locality.

The present temple is a double one: two towers or spires almost exactly duplicates of each other. One of these is represented in the preceding woodcut (No. 258), and they are connected by a porch, crowned by a dome borrowed from the Mahomedan style, which, though graceful and pleasing in design, hardly harmonises with the architecture of the rest of the temple. The spires are each 51 ft. in height, and covered with ornament to an extent quite sufficient even in this style. The details too are all elegant, and sharply and cleanly cut, and without any evidence of vulgarity or bad taste; but they are feeble as compared with the more ancient examples, and the forms of the pyramidal parts have lost that expression of power and of constructive propriety which were so evident in the earlier stages of the art. It is, however, curiously characteristic of the style and place, that a building, barely 50 ft. in length, and the same in height, should be the principal temple in the most sacred city of the Hindus, and equally so that one hardly 150 years old should be considered as the most ancient, while it is only that which marks this most holy spot in the religious cosmogony of the Hindus.

Temple of Scindiah’s Mother, Gualior.

One more example must suffice to explain the ultimate form which the ancient towers of the Orissan temples have reached in the present century. It is just finished, having been erected by the mother of the present reigning Maharajah of Gualior, and to it has been added a tomb or cenotaph either by herself or her son. As will be seen from the woodcut (No. 259) it is elegant, though feeble as compared with ancient examples. The Mahomedan dome appears in the background, and the curved Bengali roof in the pavilion in front. The most striking peculiarity of the style is, that the sikras have nearly lost the graceful curved form, which is the most marked peculiarity of all the ancient examples. As has already been remarked, the straight-lined pyramid first appears in the Takht-i-Suleiman’s temple in Kashmir, where its introduction was probably hastened by the wooden straight-lined roofs of the original native style. It is equally evident, however, in a temple which Cheyt Sing, the Raja of Benares, erected at Ramnugger in the end of the last or beginning of the present century. Since that time the tendency has been more and more in that direction, and if not checked, the probability is that the curve will be entirely{462} lost before the century is out. To an European eye, accustomed only to our straight-lined spires, that may seem hardly a matter for regret; but to any one educated in Eastern forms it can scarcely appear doubtful that these spires will lose half their charm if deprived of the graceful curved outline they have so long retained.

259. Temple of Scindiah’s Mother, Gualior. (From a Photograph.)

Bindrabun.

In order not to interrupt the story of the gradual development of the style, the history has been brought down to the present day in as nearly a consecutive manner as possible, thus anticipating the dates of several temples. It seems expedient, however, in any history that this should be done, for few things of its class are more interesting than to trace the progressive changes by which the robust form{463} of the Parasurameswara temple at Bhuvaneswar, or of the great temple there, became changed into the feeble elegance of the Vishveshwar or Gualior temples. The few examples that can be adduced in such a work as this may not suffice to make this so clear to others as it is to myself. With twenty or thirty examples it could be made self-evident, and that may one day be done, and this curious chapter in architectural history be thus added to the established sequences which every true style of art affords. Meanwhile, however, it is necessary to go back a little to mention one or two aberrant types which still are not without interest.

As mentioned above, it does not appear proven that the Moslems did wantonly throw down the temples of the Hindus, except when they wanted the materials for the erection of mosques or other buildings. But, whether this was so or not, it is evident that the first three centuries of Mahomedan rule in India were singularly unfavourable for the development of Hindu art in any part of the country where their rule was firmly established. With the tolerant reign of Akbar, however, a new state of affairs was inaugurated. Not only was he himself entirely devoid of religious bigotry, but most—or at least the most eminent—of his ministers and friends were Hindus, and he lent an attentive ear to the Christian missionaries who frequented his court. But, besides its tolerance, his reign was marked by a degree of prosperity and magnificence till then unknown during that of any other Indian sovereign of his faith. Not only are his own buildings unrivalled in their extent and magnificence, but he encouraged all those around him to follow his example, and found, among others, a most apt imitator in the celebrated Man Singh of Ambêr, afterwards of Jeypore, who reigned A.D. 1592-1615. He erected at Bindrabun a temple, which either he left unfinished at his death, or the sikra of which may have been thrown down by Aurungzebe. It is one of the most interesting and elegant temples in India, and the only one, perhaps, from which an European architect might borrow a few hints.

260. Plan of Temple at Bindrabun. (By the Author.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

The temple, as it now stands, consists of a cruciform porch, internally nearly quite perfect, though externally it is not clear how it was intended to be finished (Woodcuts Nos. 260, 261). The cell, too, is perfect internally—used for worship—but the sikra is gone; possibly it may never have been completed. Though not large, its dimensions are respectable, the porch measuring 117 ft. east and west, by 105 ft. north and south, and is covered by a true vault, built with radiating arches—the only instance, except one, known to exist in a Hindu temple{464} in the north of India. Over the four arms of the cross the vault is plain, and only 20 ft. span, but in the centre it expands to 35 ft., and is quite equal in design to the best Gothic vaulting known. It is the external design of this temple, however, which is most remarkable. The angles are accentuated with singular force and decision, and the openings, which are more than sufficient for that climate, are picturesquely arranged and pleasingly divided. It is, however, the combination of vertical with horizontal lines, covering the whole surface, that forms the great merit of the design. This is, indeed, not peculiar to this temple; but at Bhuvaneswar, Hullabîd, and elsewhere, the whole surface is so overloaded with ornament as to verge on bad taste. Here the accentuation is equal, but the surfaces are comparatively plain, and the effect dependent on the elegance of the profile of the mouldings rather than on the extent of the ornamentation. Without elaborate drawings, it would be difficult to convey a correct impression of this; but the annexed view (Woodcut No. 262) of a balcony, with its accompaniments, will suffice to illustrate what is meant. The figures might as well be omitted: being carved where Moslem influences had long been strong, they are the weakest part of the design.

261. View of Temple at Bindrabun. (From a Photograph.)

The other vaulted temple, just alluded to, is at Goverdhun, not far off, and built under the same tolerant influence during the reign{465} of Akbar. It is a plain edifice 135 ft. long by 35 ft. in width externally, and both in plan and design singularly like those early Romance churches that are constantly met with in the south of France, belonging to the 11th and 12th centuries. If, indeed, the details are not too closely looked into, it might almost pass muster for an example of Christian art at that age,[470] while except in scale the plan of the porch at Bindrabun bears a most striking resemblance to that of St. Front at Perigeux (Woodcut No. 328, vol. i.). The similarity is accidental, of course; but it is curious that architects so distant in time and place should hit so nearly on the same devices to obtain certain desired effects.

262. Balcony in Temple at Bindrabun. (From a Photograph.)

Kantonuggur.

In addition to the great Indo-Aryan style of temple-building described above, there are a number of small aberrant types which{466} it might be expedient to describe in a more extensive work; but, except one, none of them seem of sufficient importance to require illustration in a work like the present. The exceptional style is that which grew up in Bengal proper on the relaxation of the Mahomedan severity of religious intolerance, and is practised generally in the province at the present day. It may have existed earlier, but no examples are known, and it is consequently impossible to feel sure about this. Its leading characteristic is the bent cornice, copied from the bambu huts of the natives. To understand this, it may be as well to explain that the roofs of all the huts in Bengal are formed of two rectangular frames of bambus, perfectly flat and rectangular when formed, but when lifted from the ground and fitted to the substructure they are bent so that the elasticity of the bambu, resisting the flexure, keeps all the fastenings in a state of tension, which makes a singularly firm roof out of very frail materials. It is the only instance I know of elasticity being employed in building, but is so singularly successful in attaining the desired end, and is so common, that we can hardly wonder when the Bengalis turned their attention to more permanent modes of building they should have copied this one. It is nearly certain that it was employed for the same purposes before the Mahomedan sovereignty, as it is found in all the mosques at Gaur and Malda; but we do not know of its use in Hindu temples till afterwards, though now it is extremely common all over northern India.

One of the best examples of a temple in this style is that at Kantonuggur, twelve miles from the station at Dinajepore. It was commenced in A.D. 1704 and finished in 1722.[471] As will be seen from the annexed illustration (Woodcut No. 263), it is a nine-towered temple, of considerable dimensions, and of a pleasingly picturesque design. The centre pavilion is square, and, but for its pointed form, shows clearly enough its descent from the Orissan prototypes; the other eight are octagonal, and must, I fancy, be derived from Mahomedan originals. The pointed arches that prevail throughout are certainly borrowed from that style, but the building being in brick their employment was inevitable.

No stone is used in the building, and the whole surface is covered with designs in terra-cotta, partly conventional, and these are frequently repeated, as they may be without offence to taste; but the bulk of them are figure-subjects, which do not ever seem to be repeated, and form a perfect repository of the manners, customs, and costumes of the people of Bengal at the beginning of the last century. In execution they display an immeasurable inferiority to the carvings{467} on the old temples in Orissa or the Mysore, but for general effect of richness and prodigality of labour this temple may fairly be allowed to compete with some of the earlier examples.

263. Temple at Kantonuggur. (From a Photograph.)

There is another and more ornate temple, in the same style, at Gopal Gunge,[472] in the same district, but in infinitely worse taste; and{468} one known as the Black Pagoda, at Calcutta, and many others all through Lower Bengal; but hardly any so well worthy of illustration as this one at Kantonuggur.

Amritsur.

264. The Golden Temple in the Holy Tank at Amritsur.

One other example may serve for the present to complete what we have at present to say regarding the temples of modern India. This time, however, it is no longer an idol-shrine, but a monotheistic place of prayer, and differs, consequently, most essentially from those we have been describing. The religion of the Sîkhs appears to have been a protest alike against the gross idolatry of the Hindus and the inflexible monotheism of the Moslems. It does not, however, seem that temples or gorgeous ceremonial formed any part of the religious system propounded by its founders. Reading the ‘Granth’ and prayer are what were insisted upon, but even then not necessarily in public. We, in consequence, know nothing of their temples, if they have any; but Runjeet Singh was too emulous of the wealth of his Hindu and Moslem subjects in this respect not to desire to rival their magnificence, and consequently we have the Golden Temple in the Holy{469} Tank at Amritsur—as splendid an example of its class as can be found in India, though neither its outline nor its details can be commended (Woodcut No. 264). It is useful, however, as exemplifying one of the forms which Indian temple-architecture assumed in the 19th century, and where, for the present, we must leave it. The Jains and Hindus may yet do great things in it, if they can escape the influence of European imitation; but now that the sovereignty has passed from the Sîkhs we cannot expect their priests or people to indulge in a magnificence their religion does not countenance or encourage.{470}

## CHAPTER V.
CIVIL ARCHITECTURE.

CONTENTS.

Cenotaphs—Palaces at Gualior, Ambêr, Deeg—Ghâts—Reservoirs—Dams.

Cenotaphs.

As remarked above, one of the most unexpected peculiarities of the art, as practised by the inhabitants of southern India, is the absence of any attempt at sepulchral magnificence. As the Dravidians were undoubtedly of Turanian origin, and were essentially builders, we certainly would expect that they should show some respect for the memories of their great men. It is, however, even uncertain how far the cromlechs, dolmens, or sepulchral circles found all over the south of India can be said to belong to the Dravidians in a ruder stage of society, or whether they belong to some aboriginal tribes who may have adopted the language of the superior races without being able to change the instincts of their race. Even after they had seen how much respect the Mahomedans paid to departed greatness, they failed to imitate them in this peculiarity. It was otherwise in the north of India—not among the pure Aryans, of course; but in the Rajput states, where blood is less pure, they eagerly seized the suggestion offered by Mahomedan magnificence in this respect, and erected chuttries on the spots where their bodies had been burnt. Where, too, their widows, with that strange devotion which is the noblest trait in the Hindu female’s character, had sacrificed themselves to what they conceived to be their duty.

In Rajputana every native capital has its Maha Sâti, or place where the sovereigns of the state and their nearest relatives are buried with their wives. Most of these are appropriately situated in a secluded spot at some little distance from the town, and, the locality being generally chosen because it is rocky and well-wooded, it forms as picturesque a necropolis as is to be found anywhere. Of these, however, the most magnificent, and certainly among the most picturesque, is that of Oudeypore, the capital of Mewar and the chief of all the Rajput states still existing. Here the tombs exist literally in hundreds, of all sizes, from the little domical canopy supported by{471}

265. Cenotaph of Singram Sing at Oudeypore. (From a Photograph.)

four columns to the splendid chuttry whose octagonal dome is supported by fifty-six, for it has been the burying-place of the race ever since they were expelled from the ancient capital at Chittore by Akbar in 1580. All are crowned by domes, and all make more or less pretensions to architectural beauty; while as they are grouped together as accident dictated, and interspersed with noble trees, it would be difficult to point out a more beautiful cemetery anywhere. Among the finest is that of Singram Sing, one of the most illustrious of his race, who was buried on this spot, with twenty-one of his wives, in A.D. 1733. As will be seen from the annexed Woodcut (No. 265), it is a fifty-six pillared portico, with one octagonal dome in the centre (vide ante, Woodcut No. 119). The dome itself is supported on eight dwarf pillars, which, however, hardly seem sufficient{472} for the purpose. The architect seems to have desired to avoid all appearances of that gloom or solemnity which characterise the contemporary tombs of the Moslems, but, in doing this, to have erred in the other direction. The base here is certainly not sufficiently solid for the mass it has to support; but the whole is so elegant, and the effect so pleasing, that it seems hypercritical to find fault with it, and difficult to find, even among Mahomedan tombs, anything more beautiful.

266. Cenotaph in Maha Sâti at Oudeypore. (From a Photograph.)

He it was, apparently, who erected the cenotaph to the memory of his predecessor Amera Sing II., for the Hindus do not appear to have gone so far in their imitation of the Moslems as to erect their own tombs. In style it is very similar to that last described, except{473} that it possesses only thirty-two columns instead of fifty-six. It has, however, the same lofty stylobate, which adds so much to the effect of these tombs, but has also the same defect—that the dome is raised on eight dwarf columns, which do not seem sufficient for the purpose.[473]

Woodcut No. 266 represents a cenotaph in this cemetery with only twelve columns, which, mutatis mutandis, is identical with the celebrated tomb at Halicarnassus.[474] The lofty stylobate, the twelve columns, the octagonal dome, and the general mode of construction are the same; but the twelve or thirteen centuries that have elapsed between the construction of the two, and the difference of locality, have so altered the details that the likeness is not at first sight easily recognisable. From the form of its dome it is evidently considerably more modern than that last described; it may, indeed, have been erected within the limits of the present century.

To the right of the same woodcut is another cenotaph with only eight pillars, but the effect is so weak and unpleasing that it is hardly to be wondered at that the arrangement is so rare. The angle columns seem indispensable to give the design that accentuation and firmness which are indispensable in all good architecture.

These last two illustrations, it will be observed, are practically in the Jaina style of architecture; for, though adopting a Mahomedan form, the Ranas of Oudeypore clung to the style of architecture which their ancestors had practised, and which Khumbo Rana had only recently rendered so famous. This gives them a look of greater antiquity than they are entitled to, for it is quite certain that Oudeypore was not the capital of the kingdom before the sack of Chittore in 1580; and nearly equally so that the Hindus never thought of this mode of commemorating their dead till the tolerant reign of Akbar. He did more than all that had been done before or since to fuse together the antagonistic feelings of the two religions into at least a superficial similarity.

Further north, where the Jaina style never had been used to the same extent at least as in the south-west, the Hindus adopted quite a different style in their palaces and cenotaphs. It was much more of an arched style, and though never, so far as I know, using a true arch, they adopted the form of the foliated arch, which is so common in the palaces of Agra and Delhi, and all the Mogul buildings. In the palace at Deeg, and in the cenotaphs of Goverdhun, this style is seen in great perfection. It is well illustrated, with all its peculiarities, in the next view of the tomb of Baktawar Sing at Ulwar,{474}

267. Tomb of Rajah Baktawar at Ulwar. (From a Photograph.)

erected within the limits of the present century (Woodcut No. 267). To a European eye, perhaps the least pleasing part will be the Bengali curved cornices alluded to in the last chapter; but to any one {475}familiar with the style, its employment gets over many difficulties that a straight line could hardly meet, and altogether it makes up with its domes and pavilions as pleasing a group of its class as is to be found in India, of its age at least. The tombs of the Bhurtpore Rajahs at Goverdhun are similar to this one, but on a larger scale, and some of them being older, are in better taste; but the more modern ones avoid most of the faults that are only too characteristic of the art in India at the present day, and some of them are very modern. One was in course of construction when I was there in 1839, and from its architect I learned more of the secrets of art as practised in the Middle Ages than I have learned from all the books I have since read. Another was commenced after the time of my visit, and it is far from being one of the worst buildings of its class. If one could only inspire the natives with a feeling of pride in their own style, there seems little doubt that even now they could rival the works of their forefathers.

Palaces.

Another feature by which the northern style is most pleasingly distinguished from the southern, is the number and beauty of the palaces, which are found in all the capitals of the native states, especially in Rajputana. These are seldom designed with much reference to architectural symmetry or effect, but are nevertheless always picturesque and generally most ornamental objects in the landscape where they are found. As a rule, they are situated on rocky eminences, jutting into or overhanging lakes or artificial pieces of water, which are always pleasing accompaniments to buildings of any sort in that climate; and the way they are fitted into the rocks, or seem to grow out of them, frequently leads to the most picturesque combinations. Sometimes their bases are fortified with round towers or bastions, on whose terraces the palace stands; and even when this is not the case, the basement is generally built up solid to a considerable height, in a manner that gives a most pleasing effect of solidity to the whole, however light the superstructure may be, and often is. If to these natural advantages you add the fact that the high caste Hindu is almost incapable of bad taste, and that all these palaces are exactly what they profess to be, without any affectation of pretending to be what they are not, or of copying any style, ancient or modern, but that best suited for their purposes—it will not be difficult to realise what pleasing objects of study these Rajput palaces really are. At the same time it will be easily understood how difficult it must be in such a work as this to convey any adequate idea of their beauty; without plans explaining their arrangements, and architectural details of their interior, neither their elegance nor appropriateness can be judged of. A palace is not like a temple—a simple edifice of one or two halls or cells, almost identical with hundreds of others; but a vast{476} congeries of public and private apartments grouped as a whole more for convenience than effect.

Few of the palaces of India have escaped the fate of that class of edifice all the world over. Either they must be deserted and left to decay, which in India means rapid obliteration, or they must be altered and modified to suit the requirements of subsequent occupants, till little if anything remains of the original structure. This fate, so far as is known, has overtaken all the royal abodes that may have existed before the dark ages; so much so, indeed, that no trace of them has been found anywhere. Even after that we look in vain for anything important before the 13th century. At Chittore, for instance, where one of the earliest Rajput dynasties was established, there are buildings that bear the name of the Palace of the Mori, but so altered and remodelled as to be unrecognisable as such; nor can the palace of the Khengar at Girnar exhibit any feature that belongs to the date to which it is assigned.

At Chittore the oldest building of this class which can with certainty be said to have existed anterior to the sack of the place by Alla-u-dîn in 1305, is the palace of Bhîm and Pudmandi, which remains unaltered, and is, though small, a very pleasing example of the style.[475] The palace of Khumbo Rana (A.D. 1418-1468) in the same place is far more grandiose, and shows all that beauty of detail which characterises his buildings in general.

The palaces at Chittore belonging to this dynasty were however far surpassed, in extent at least, by those which Udya Sing commenced at Udyapur or Oudeypore, to which place he removed his capital after the third sack of Chittore by Akbar in 1580. It has not unfrequently been compared with the Castle at Windsor, and not inaptly, for both in outline and extent it is not unlike that palace, though differing so wonderfully in detail and in situation. In this latter respect the Eastern has the advantage of the Western palace, as it stands on the verge of an extensive lake, surrounded by hills of great beauty of outline, and in the lake are two island palaces, the Jug Newas and Jug Mundir, which are more beautiful in their class than any similar objects I know of elsewhere.[476] It would be difficult to find any scene where art and nature are so happily blended together and produce so fairy-like an effect. Certainly nothing I know of so modern a date equals it.

The palace at Boondi is of about the same modern age as that at{477} Oudeypore, and almost equals it in architectural effect. It is smaller however, and its lake is less in extent, and has only temples standing on its islets, instead of palaces with their pavilions and gardens. Still, the mode in which it is placed on its hill, and the way in which its buildings gradually fade into the bastions of the hill above, are singularly picturesque even for this country, and the hills being higher, and the valleys narrower, the effect of this palace is in some respects even more imposing than that at Oudeypore.

268. Palace at Duttiah. (From a Photograph.)

There are, however, some twenty or thirty similar royal residences in Central India, all of which have points of interest and beauty: some for their extent, others for their locality, and some for their beauty in detail, but every one of which would require a volume to describe in detail. Two examples, though among the least known, must at present suffice to illustrate their general appearance.

That at Duttiah (Woodcut No. 268), in Bundelcund, is a large square block of building, more regular than such buildings generally are, but still sufficiently relieved both in outline, and in the variety of detail applied to the various storeys, to avoid monotony, and with its gardens leading down to the lake, and its tombs opposite, combine to make up an architectural scene of a singularly pleasing character.

The other is even less known, as it belongs to the little Bundelcund{478}

269. Palace at Ourtcha Bundelcund. (From a Photograph.)

{479}

state of Ourtcha (Woodcut No. 269), but is of a much more varied outline than that at Duttiah, and with its domes and gateways makes up as picturesque a combination as can well be found anywhere. It is too modern for much purity of detail, but that in a residence is less objectionable than it would be in a temple, or in an edifice devoted to any higher purpose.

Gualior.

Perhaps the most historically interesting of these Central Indian palaces is that of Gualior. The rock on which that fortress stands is of so peculiar a formation, and by nature so strong, that it must always have been occupied by the chiefs of the state in which it is situated. Its temples have already been described, but its older palaces have undergone the fate of all similar edifices; it, however, possesses, or possessed, in that built by Mân Sing (A.D. 1486-1516), the most remarkable and interesting example of a Hindu palace of an early age in India. The external dimensions of this palace are 300 ft. by 160 ft., and on the east side it is 100 ft. high, having two underground storeys looking over the country. On all its faces the flat surface is relieved by tall towers of singularly pleasing design, crowned by cupolas that were covered with domes of gilt copper when Baber saw them in 1527.[477] His successor, Vicramaditya, added another palace, of even greater extent, to this one in 1516;[478] and Jehangir and Shah Jehan added palaces to these two, the whole making up a group of edifices unequalled for picturesqueness and interest by anything of their class that exists in Central India.[479] Among the apartments in the palace was one called the Baradurri, supported on twelve columns, and 45 ft. square, with a stone roof, which was one of the most beautiful apartments of its class anywhere to be{480} found. It was, besides, singularly interesting from the expedients to which the Hindu architect was forced to resort to imitate the vaults of the Moslems. They had not then learned to copy them, as they did at the end of that century, at Bindrabun and elsewhere, under the guidance of the tolerant Akbar.

Of these buildings, which so excited the admiration of the Emperor Baber, probably little now remains. The Moslems added to the palaces of the Hindus, and spared their temples and the statues of the Jains. We have ruthlessly set to work to destroy whatever interferes with our convenience, and during the few years we have occupied the fort, have probably done more to disfigure its beauties, and obliterate its memories, than was caused by the Moslems during the centuries they possessed or occupied it. Better things were at one time hoped for, but the fact seems to be, the ruling powers have no real heart in the matter, and subordinates are allowed to do as they please, and if they can save money or themselves trouble, there is nothing in India that can escape the effect of their unsympathising ignorance.

Ambêr.

The palace at Ambêr, the original capital of the Jeypore states, ranks next after that of Gualior as an architectural object among the Rajput palaces. It is, however, a century more modern, having been commenced by another Mân Singh, who ascended the throne in 1592, and was completed by Siwai Jey Sing, who added the beautiful gateway which bears his name before he removed the seat of government to Jeypore in 1728. In consequence of this more modern date it has not that stamp of Hindu originality that is so characteristic of the Gualior example, and throughout it bears a strong impress of that influence which Akbar’s mind and works stamped on everything that was done in India during his reign. Its situation, too, is inferior to that of Gualior for architectural effect. Instead of standing on a lofty rocky pedestal, and its pinnacles being relieved boldly against the sky, the Ambêr palace is situated in a valley—picturesque, it is true, but where the masonry competes with the rocks in a manner which is certainly unfavourable to the effect of the building. Nothing, however, can be more picturesque than the way in which the palace grows, as it were, out of a rocky base or reflects itself in the mirror of the deep lake at its base, and nothing can be happier than the mode in which the principal apartments are arranged, so as to afford views over the lake and into the country beyond.

The details, too, of this palace are singularly good, and quite free from the feebleness that shortly afterwards characterised the style. In some respects, indeed, they contrast favourably with those of Akbar’s contemporary palace at Futtehpore Sikri. There the{481} second commandment confined the fancy of the decorator to purely inanimate objects; here the laxer creed of the Hindus enabled him to indulge in elephant capitals and figure-sculpture of men and animals to any extent. The Hindus seem also to have indulged in colour and in mirrors to an extent that Akbar did not apparently feel himself justified in employing. The consequence is that the whole has a richer and more picturesque effect than its Mahomedan rival, but the two together make up a curiously perfect illustration of the architecture of that day, as seen from a Hindu, contrasted with that from a Mahomedan, point of view.

It was the same Mân Sing who erected the Observatory at Benares which still bears his name, and though not very architectural in its general appearance, has on the river-face a balconied window, which is a fair and pleasing specimen of the architecture of his age (Woodcut No. 270). He also was the king who erected the temple at Bindrabun, which has been illustrated above (pp. 463, 464).

270. Balcony at the Conservatory, Benares. (From a Drawing by the late James Prinsep.)

Deeg.

All the palaces above described are more or less irregular in their disposition, and are all situated on rocky and uneven ground. That at Deeg, however, is on a perfectly level plain, and laid out with a regularity that would satisfy the most fastidious Renaissance architect. It is wholly the work of Sûraj Mull, the virtual founder{482} of the Bhurtpore dynasty, who commenced it, apparently in 1725, and left it as we now see it, when he was slain in battle with Nudjiff Khan in 1763. It wants, it is true, the massive character of the fortified palaces of other Rajput states, but for grandeur of conception and beauty of detail it surpasses them all.

The whole palace was to have consisted of a rectangular enclosure twice the length of its breadth, surrounded with buildings, with a garden in the centre, divided into two parts by a broad terrace, intended to carry the central pavilion. Only one of these rectangles has been completed, measuring about 700 feet square,[480] crossed in the centre by ranges of the most beautiful fountains and parterres, laid out in the formal style of the East, and interspersed with architectural ornaments of the most elaborate finish.

271. Hall at Deeg.
(From a Plan by the Author.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

The pavilion on the north side contains the great audience-hall, 76 ft. 8 in. by 54 ft. 7 in., divided in the centre by a noble range of arcades, behind which are the principal dwelling apartments, two, and in some parts three, storeys in height. Opposite this is a pavilion occupied principally by fountains. On one side stands a marble hall, attached to an older palace facing the principal pavilion, which was meant to occupy the centre of the garden. As will be seen by the plan (Woodcut No. 271), it is a parallelogram of 152 ft. by 87 ft., each end occupied by a small but very elegant range of apartments, in two storeys; the central hall (108 ft. by 87 ft.) is supported on four rows of columns, and open at both sides; at each end is a marble reservoir for fountains, and a similar one exists externally on each side. The whole is roofed with stone, except the central part, which, after being contracted by a bold cove, is roofed with a flat ceiling of timber exquisitely carved. This wooden ceiling seems to have been considered a defect, nothing but stone being used in any other part of the palace. The architect, therefore, attempted to roof the corresponding pavilion of the unfinished court with slabs of stone 34 ft. in length, and 18 in. square. Some of these still exist in their places, but their weight was too great for the arcades, which are only 18 in. thick, and not of solid stone, but of two facings 4 in. or 5 in. thick, and the intermediate spaces filled in with rubble. Besides this, though the form of the arch is literally copied from the Mahomedan style, neither here, nor elsewhere{483} throughout the palace, is there a single true arch, the openings being virtually covered by two brackets meeting in the centre.

272. View from the Central Pavilion in the Palace at Deeg. (From a Photograph.)

The general appearance of the arcades of these buildings may be gathered from the annexed view (Woodcut No. 272), and may be characterised as more elegant than rich. The glory of Deeg, however, consists in the cornices, which are generally double, a peculiarity not seen elsewhere, and which for extent of shadow and richness of detail surpass any similar ornaments in India, either in ancient or modern buildings. The lower cornice is the usual sloping entablature, almost universal in such buildings. This was adopted apparently because it took the slope of the curtains, which almost invariably hang beneath its projecting shade, and which, when drawn out, seem almost a continuation of it. The upper cornice, which was horizontal, is peculiar to Deeg, and seems designed to furnish an extension of the flat roof, which in Eastern palaces is usually considered the best apartment of the house; but whether designed for this or any other purpose, it adds singularly to the richness of the effect, and by the double shadow affords a relief and character seldom exceeded even in the East.

Generally speaking, the bracket arcades of Deeg are neither so{484} rich nor so appropriate as the bold bracket capitals of the older styles. That the bracket is almost exclusively an original Indian form of capital can, I think, scarcely be doubted; but the system was carried much further by the Moguls, especially during the reign of Akbar, than it had ever been carried by its original inventors, at least in the North. The Hindus, on receiving it back, luxuriated in its picturesque richness to an extent that astonishes every beholder; and half the effect of most of the modern buildings of India is owing to the bold projecting balconies and fanciful kiosks that diversify the otherwise plain walls.

The greatest defect of the palace is that the style, when it was erected, was losing its true form of lithic propriety. The form of its pillars and their ornaments are better suited for wood or metal than for stone architecture; and though the style of the Moguls, in the last days of their dynasty, was tending in that direction, it never threw off the solidity and constructive propriety to such an extent as is done in these modern palaces of the Hindus. It is not at Deeg carried so far as to be offensive, but it is on the verge of good taste, and in some more modern buildings assumes forms more suited for upholstery than for stone architecture.

Since the time when Sûraj Mull completed this fairy creation, the tendency, not only with the Rajput princes, but the sovereigns of such states as Oude, and even as Delhi, has been to copy the bastard style of Italian architecture we have introduced into India. It was natural, perhaps, that they should admire the arts of a race who had shown themselves in war and policy superior to themselves; but it was fatal to their arts, and whether a revival is now possible remains to be seen. It might be so, if their rulers showed the smallest possible appreciation of the works of their ancestors, but can hardly be hoped for while a department of the state is organised, as they must believe, for the express purpose of destroying and obliterating all traces of what was once noble and beautiful in the land.

Ghâts or Landing-places.

Another object of architectural magnificence peculiar to northern Hindustan, is the construction of the ghâts that everywhere line the river-banks in most of the great cities, more especially those which are situated on the Ganges. Benares possesses perhaps the greatest number of edifices of this class; but from Calcutta to Hurdwar no city is without some specimens of this species of architectural display. The Ghoosla Ghât at Benares (Woodcut No. 273), though one of the most modern, may be taken as a fair specimen of the class, although many are richer and much more elaborately adorned. Their object{485} being to afford easy access to bathers, the flight of steps in front is in reality the ghât, and the main object of the erection. These are generally broken, as in this instance, by small projections, often crowned by kiosks, which take off the monotony inherent in long lines of narrow steps. The flight of stairs is always backed by a building, which in most instances is merely an object of architectural display without any particular destination, except to afford shelter from the rays of the sun to such of the idle as choose to avail themselves of it. When the bank is high, the lower part of these buildings is solid, and when, as in this instance, it is nearly plain, it affords a noble basement to an ornamental upper storey, with which they are generally adorned, or to the temple which frequently crowns them.

273. Ghoosla Ghât, Benares. (From Prinsep’s Views.)

Though the Ganges is, par excellence, the river of ghâts, one of the most beautiful in India is that erected by Ahalya Baiee (Holkar’s widow) at Maheswar, on the Nerbudda; and Ujjain and other ancient cities almost rival Benares in this respect. Indeed, there is scarcely a tank or stream in all India that is without its flight of steps, and it is seldom indeed that these are left without some adornment or an attempt at architectural display, water being always grateful in so{486} hot a climate, and an especially favourite resort with a people so fond of washing and so cleanly in their habits as the Hindus.

Reservoirs.

The same fondness for water has given rise to another species of architectural display peculiar to India, in the great reservoirs or bowlees, which are found wherever the wells are deep and water far from the surface. In design they are exactly the reverse of the ghâts, since the steps are wholly below the ground, and descend to the water often at a depth of 80 ft. or 100 ft. Externally they make no display, the only objects usually seen above ground being two pavilions to mark the entrance, between which a bold flight of steps, from 20 ft. to 40 ft. in width, leads down to the water. Facing the entrance is a great screen, rising perpendicularly from the water to the surface of the ground, and dividing the stairs from a circular shaft or well, up which the water is drawn by pulleys by those who prefer that mode of obtaining it instead of descending the steps. The walls between which the steps descend are ornamented by niches, or covered with galleries leading to the great screen. Where the depth is great, there is often a screen across the stairs about half-way down.

To persons not familiar with the East such an architectural object as a bowlee may seem a strange perversion of ingenuity, but the grateful coolness of all subterranean apartments, especially when accompanied by water, and the quiet gloom of these recesses, fully compensate, in the eyes of the Hindu, for the more attractive magnificence of the ghâts. Consequently, the descending flights of which we are now speaking, have often been made more elaborate and expensive pieces of architecture than any of the buildings above ground found in their vicinity.

Dams.

In the same manner the bunds or dams of the artificial lakes, or great tanks, which are so necessary for irrigation, are often made works of great architectural magnificence, first by covering them with flights of steps, like those of the ghâts, and then erecting temples or pavilions, and kiosks, interspersed with fountains and statues in breaks between these flights. Where all these are of marble, as is sometimes the case in Rajputana, the whole make up as perfect a piece of architectural combination as any the Hindus can boast of.

One of the most beautiful of these is that erected by Raj Sing, who ascended the throne of Oudeypore, in 1653, to form the lake of Rajsamundra (Woodcut No. 274), which is one of the most extensive in his dominions. This bund is 376 paces in length, and wholly{487} covered with white marble steps; and with its beautiful kiosks projecting into the water, and the palaces which crown the hills at either end, it makes up a fairy scene of architectural beauty, with its waters and its woods, which is hardly surpassed by any in the East.

274. Bund of Lake Rajsamundra. (From a Sketch by the Author.)

It would be tedious, however, to enumerate, without illustrating them, which the limits of this work will not permit, all the modes of architectural magnificence of the Hindus. Like all people untrammelled by rules derived from incongruous objects, and gifted with a feeling for the beautiful, they adorn whatever they require, and convert every object, however utilitarian in its purposes, into an object of beauty. They long ago found out that it is not temples and palaces alone that are capable of such display, but that everything which man makes may become beautiful, provided the hand of taste be guided by sound judgment, and that the architect never forgets what the object is, and never conceals the constructive exigences of the building itself. It is simply this inherent taste and love of beauty, which the Indians seem always to have possessed, directed by unaffected honesty of purpose, which enables those who are destitute of political independence, or knowledge, or power, to erect, even at the present day, buildings that will bear comparison with the best of those erected in Europe during the Middle Ages. It must be confessed that it would require far more comprehensive illustration than{488} the preceding slight sketch of so extensive a subject can pretend to be, to make this apparent to others. But no one who has personally visited the objects of interest with which India abounds can fail to be struck with the extraordinary elegance of detail and propriety of design which pervades all the architectural achievements of the Hindus; and this not only in buildings erected in former days, but in those now in course of construction in those parts of the country to which the bad taste of their European rulers has not yet penetrated.{489}

## BOOK VII.
INDIAN SARACENIC ARCHITECTURE.

## CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.

From a very early period in the world’s history a great group of civilized nations existed in Central Asia between the Mediterranean and the Indus. They lived apart, having few relations with their neighbours, except of war and hatred, and served rather to separate than to bring together the Indian and European communities which flourished beyond them on either hand.

Alexander’s great raid was the first attempt to break through this barrier, and to join the East and West by commercial or social interchanges. The steady organisation of the Roman empire succeeded in consolidating what that brilliant conqueror had sketched out. During the permanence of her supremacy the space intervening between India and Europe was bridged over by the order she maintained among the various communities established in Central Asia, and there seemed no reason why the intercourse so established should be interrupted. Unsuspected, however, by the Roman world, two nomade nations, uninfluenced by its civilization, hung on either flank of this great line of communication, ready to avail themselves of any moment of weakness that might occur.

The Arabs, as the most impetuous, and nearest the centre, were the first to break their bounds; and in the course of the 7th century Syria, Persia, Egypt, and the north of Africa became theirs. Spain was conquered, and India nearly shared the same fate. Under Muawiah, the first Khalif of the Ommiahs, two attempts were made to cross the Indus by the southern route—that which the Scythians had successfully followed a short time before. Both these attempts failed, but under Walid, Muhamed Kasim, A.H. 99, did effect a settlement in Scinde. It proved a barren conquest, however; for though a Mahomedan dynasty was established there, it soon became independent of the Khalifat, and eventually died out.{490}

The supremacy of the Khalifat was as brief as it was brilliant. Its hour of greatest glory was about the year A.D. 800, in the reign of Haroun al Rashid. From that time decay set in; and after two centuries more the effeminacy and corruption inherent in Eastern dynasties had so far progressed as to encourage the Northern hordes to move.

During the course of the 11th century the Tartar hordes, who were hitherto only known as shepherds pasturing their herds on the steppes of Northern Asia, first made their appearance south of the Paropamisan range as conquerors; and for six centuries their progress was steadily onwards, till, in the year A.D. 1683, we find the Turks encamped under the walls of Vienna, and the Mogul Aurungzebe lord paramount of the whole of India Proper, while Egypt and all the intervening countries owned the rule of sovereigns of Turanian race.

The architecture of the nations under the Arab Khalifat has already been described, and is of very minor importance.[481] The ruling people were of Semitic race, and had no great taste for architectural magnificence; and unless where they happened to govern a people of another stock, they have left few traces of their art.

With the Northern hordes the case was widely different; they were, without an exception, of Turanian blood, more or less pure, and wherever they went their mosques, and especially their tombs, remain to mark their presence, and to convey an idea of their splendour. In order to understand what follows, it is necessary to bear in mind that the Semitic conquest, from Mecca as a centre, extended from the mouths of the Guadalquivir to those of the Indus, and left but little worthy of remark in architecture. The Turanian conquest, from Bokhara and Balkh as centres, extended from Constantinople to Cuttack, and covered the whole intervening space with monuments of every class. Those of the west and centre have already been described in speaking of Turkey and Persia; the Eastern branch remains to be discussed, and its monuments are those of which this division of the work purports to be a description.

The Saracenic architects showed in India the same pliancy in adopting the styles of the various people among whom they had settled which characterised their practice in the countries already described. It thus happens that in India we have at least twelve or fifteen different styles of Mahomedan architecture: and if an attempt were made to exhaust all the examples, it would be found necessary to enumerate even a greater number. Meanwhile, however, the following thirteen divisions will probably be found sufficient for present purposes:{491}—

1. The first of these is that of Ghazni, which, though not, strictly speaking, in India, had without doubt the most important influence on the Indian styles, and formed in fact the stepping-stone by means of which the architecture of the West was introduced into India, and it long remained the connecting link between the styles of the Eastern and those of the Western world. It would consequently be of the greatest importance in enabling us to understand the early examples of the style in India Proper, if we could describe this one with anything like precision, but for that we must wait till some qualified person visits the province.

2. Next to this comes the Pathan style of northern India (A.D. 1193-1554), spreading over the whole of Upper India, and lasting for about three centuries and a half. After the death, however, of Ala ud-dîn (A.D. 1316) the central power was at times so weak, that the recently conquered outlying provinces were frequently enabled to render themselves independent, and when this was the case, exhibited their individuality everywhere, by inventing a style of architecture expressive of their local peculiarities.

3. One of the first to exhibit this tendency was the brilliant but short-lived Sharki dynasty of Jaunpore (A.D. 1394-1476). Though existing for less than a century, they adorned their capital with a series of mosques and other buildings which are hardly surpassed by those of any city in India for magnificence, and by none for a well-marked individuality of treatment.

4. The style adopted by the kings of Gujerat during their period of independence (A.D. 1396-1572) was richer and more varied than that of Jaunpore, though hardly so original or marked by such individuality. They borrowed too much, physically as well as intellectually, from the architecture of the Jains, among whom they were located, to be entirely independent; but the richness of their style is in proportion to the Hindu details they introduced.

5. Malwa became independent in A.D. 1401, and between that date and A.D. 1568, when they were absorbed in the Mogul empire, her kings adorned their capital at Mandu with palaces and mosques of great magnificence, but more similar to the parent style at Delhi than the two last-named styles, and wanting, consequently, in the local individuality.

6. Bengal was early erected into a separate kingdom—in A.D. 1203—more or less independent of the central power; and during its continuance—till A.D. 1573—the capitals, Gaur and Maldah, were adorned with many splendid edifices. Generally these were in brick, and are now so overgrown by jungle as to be either ruined or nearly invisible. They are singularly picturesque, however, and display all the features of a strongly-marked individuality of style.

These six divisions are probably sufficient to characterise the{492} Mahomedan styles north of the Nerbudda. To the south of that river there are three well-marked styles.

7. First that of the Bahmani dynasty. First at Kalbergah, A.D. 1347, and afterwards at Bidar, A.D. 1426, they adorned their capitals with edifices of great magnificence and well-marked individuality, before they were absorbed, in A.D. 1525, in the great Mogul empire.

8. Next to these was the still more celebrated Adil Shahi dynasty of Bijapur (A.D. 1489-1660). Their style differed most essentially from all those above enumerated, and was marked by a grandeur of conception and boldness in construction unequalled by any edifices erected in India.

9. The third southern style is that of the Kutub Shahi dynasty of Golconda, A.D. 1512-1672. Their tombs are splendid, and form one of the most striking groups in India, but show evident signs of a decadence that was too surely invading art at the age when they were erected.

10. One by one all these brilliant individualities were absorbed in the great Mogul empire, founded by Baber, A.D. 1494, and which, though practically perishing on the death of Aurungzebe, A.D. 1706, may be considered as existing till the middle of the last century, A.D. 1750. It is to this dynasty that Agra, Delhi, and most of the towns in northern India owe their most splendid edifices.

11. Before leaving this branch of the subject, it may be expedient to enumerate the style of Moslem art existing in Scinde. Practically, it is Persian both in its form and the style of decoration, and must have existed in this province from a very ancient time. All the examples, however, now known of it are comparatively modern, and bring us back, curiously enough, to the neighbourhood of Ghazni, from which we started in our enumeration.

12. Leaving these, which may be called the true styles of Mahomedan architecture, we have two which may be designated as the bastard styles. The first of these is that of Oude (A.D. 1756-1847). In its capital there are ranges of building equal in extent and richness to those of any of the capitals above enumerated, but degraded in taste to an extent it is hardly possible to credit in a people who so shortly before had shown themselves capable of such noble aspirations.

13. The style adopted by the short-lived dynasty of Mysore (A.D. 1760-1799), being further removed from the influences of European vulgarity, is not so degraded as that of Lucknow, but is poor and inartistic when compared with earlier styles.

In an exhaustive treatise on the subject, the styles of Ahmednugger and Arungabad, A.D. 1490-1707, ought, perhaps, to be enumerated, and some minor styles elsewhere. These have not, however, sufficient individuality to deserve being erected into separate styles,{493} and the amount of illustration that can be introduced into a work like the present is not sufficient to render the differences sensible to those who are not personally acquainted with the examples.

Even as it is, it would require a much more extensive series of illustrations than that here given to make even their most marked merits or peculiarities evident to those who have no other means than what such a work as this affords of forming an opinion regarding them. Each of these thirteen styles deserves a monograph; but, except for Bijapur[482] and Ahmedabad,[483] nothing of the sort has yet been attempted, and even the two works in which this has been attempted for these two capitals by no means exhaust the materials available for the purpose. Let us hope that these deficiencies will be supplied, and the others undertaken before long and before it is too late, for the buildings are fast perishing from the ravages of time and climate and the still more destructive exigences of the present governing power in India.{494}

## CHAPTER II.
GHAZNI.

CONTENTS.

Tomb of Mahmúd—Gates of Somnath—Minars on the Plain.

CHRONOLOGY.

Sabuktagin, founder | A.D. 975
Mahmúd | 977
Masúd | 1030
Abdul-rashid | 1048
Ibrahim | 1054
Shahab ud-dîn (first of Ghori dynasty) | 1139

Towards the latter part of the 9th century the power of the Khalifs of Bagdad was sinking into that state of rapid decline which is the fate of all Eastern dynasties. During the reign of Al Motamed, A.D. 870-891, Egypt became independent, and the northern province of Bokhara threw off the yoke under the governor appointed by the Khalif, Nasr ben Ahmed, a descendant of Saman, a robber chief, who declared and maintained his independence, and so formed the Samanian dynasty. After the dynasty had existed about a century, Sabuktagin, a Tûrkish slave belonging to a general of one of the last of the Samanian kings, rendered himself also independent of his master, and established himself in Ghazni, of which he was governor, founding the well-known dynasty of Ghaznavides. His successor, Mahmúd, A.D. 977-1030, is one of the best-known kings in Indian history owing to his brilliant campaigns in India, and more especially that in which he destroyed the celebrated temple of Somnath.

On his return from an earlier campaign, in which he had sacked the town of Muttra, we learn from Ferishta that the king ordered a magnificent mosque to be built of marble and granite, afterwards known by the name of the Celestial Bride. Near it he founded a university. When the nobility of Ghazni perceived the taste of their king in architecture, they also endeavoured to vie with one another in the magnificence of their palaces, as well as in the public buildings which were raised for the embellishment of the city. “Thus,” continues the historian, “the capital was in a short time ornamented with mosques, porches, fountains, aqueducts, reservoirs, and cisterns, beyond any city in the East.”[484]{495}

275. Minar at Ghazni. (From a Drawing by G. T. Vigne, Esq.)

The plain of Ghazni still shows the remains of this splendour; and, in the dearth of information regarding Persian art of that age, an account of it would be one of the most interesting and valuable pieces of information we could receive. These ruins, however, have not been as yet either examined or described;[485] and even the tomb of{496} the Great Mahmúd is unknown to us except by name,[486] notwithstanding the celebrity it acquired from the removal of its gates to India at the termination of our disastrous campaigns in that country.

The gates are of Deodar pine,[487] and the carved ornaments on them are so similar to those found at Cairo, on the mosque of Ebn Touloun and other buildings of that age, as not only to prove that they are of the same date, but also to show how similar were the modes of decoration at these two extremities of the Moslem empire at the time of their execution.

276. Ornaments from the Tomb of Mahmúd at Ghazni.

At the same time there is nothing in their style of ornamentation that at all resembles anything found in any Hindu temple, either of their age or at any other time. There is, in fact, no reason for doubting that these gates were made for the place where they were found.[488] If any other parts of the tomb are ornamented in the same style, it would be of great interest to have them drawn. It probably is, however, from the Jumma Musjid that we shall obtain the best picture of the arts of that day, when any one will take the trouble of examining it.

Two minars still adorn the plain outside the city, and form, if not the most striking, at least the most prominent of the ruins of that{497} city. Neither of them was ever attached to a mosque; they are, indeed, pillars of victory, or Jaya Stambhas, like those at Chittore and elsewhere in India, and are such as we might expect to find in a country so long Buddhist. One of them was erected by Mahmúd himself; the other was built, or at least finished, by Masúd, one of his immediate successors.[489]

The lower part of these towers is of a star-like form—the plan being apparently formed by placing two squares diagonally the one over the other. The upper part, rising to the height of about 140 ft. from the ground, is circular; both are of brickwork, covered with ornaments of terra-cotta of extreme elaboration and beauty, and retaining their sharpness to the present day.

Several other minars of the same class are found further west, even as far as the roots of the Caucasus,[490] which, like these, were pillars of victory, erected by the conquerors on their battle-fields. None of them have the same architectural merit as those of Ghazni, at least in their present state, though it may be that their ornaments, having been in stucco or some perishable material, have disappeared, leaving us now only the skeleton of what they were.

The weakness of Mahmúd’s successors left the Indians in repose for more than a century and a half; and, like all Eastern dynasties, the Ghaznavides were gradually sinking to inevitable decay, when their fall was precipitated by the crimes of one of them, which were fearfully avenged by the destruction of their empire and capital by Ala ud-dîn, and their race was at length superseded by that of the Ghori, in the person of Shahab ud-dîn, in the year 1183.

Though centuries of misrule have weighed on this country since the time of the Ghaznavides, it is scarcely probable that all traces of their magnificence have passed away; but till their cities are examined by some one competent to discriminate between what is good or bad, or old or new, we must be content merely to indicate the position of the style, leaving this chapter to be written hereafter when the requisite information shall have been obtained. In the meanwhile it is satisfactory to know that between Herat and the Indus there do exist a sufficient number of monuments to enable us to connect the styles of the West with those in the East. They have been casually described by travellers, but not in such a manner as to render them available for our purposes; and in the present unsettled state of the country it may be some time yet before their elucidation can be accomplished.{498}

## CHAPTER III.
PATHAN STYLE.

CONTENTS.

Mosque at Old Delhi—Kutub Minar—Tomb of Ala ud-dîn—Pathan Tombs—Ornamentation of Pathan Tombs.

CHRONOLOGY.

Shahab ud-dîn Ghori | A.D. 1192
Kutub ud-dîn Ibek | 1206
Shum ud-dîn Altumsh | 1210
Ala ud-dîn Khilji | 1295
Tugluck Shah | 1321
Nasar ud-dîn last of the Khiljis | 1393
Khyer Khan under Tamerlane | 1414
Behloli Lodi | 1450
Shere Shah | 1510
Sekunder defeated by Akbar | 1554

With all the vigour of a new race, the Ghorians set about the conquest of India. After sustaining a defeat in the year 1191, Shahab ud-dîn again entered India in A.D. 1193, when he attacked and defeated Prithiraj of Delhi. This success was followed by the conquest of Canouge in A.D. 1194; and after the fall of these two, the capitals of the greatest empires in the peninsula, India may be said to have been conquered before his death, which happened in A.D. 1206.

At his death his great empire fell to pieces, and India fell to the share of Kutub ud-dîn Ibek. This prince was originally a Tûrkish slave, who afterwards became one of Shahab ud-dîn’s generals and contributed greatly by his talents and military skill to the success of his master. He and his successor, Altumsh, continued nobly the work so successfully begun, and before the death of the latter, in A.D. 1235, the empire of northern India had permanently passed from the hands of the Hindus to those of their Mahomedan conquerors.

For a century and a half after the conquest the empire continued a united whole, under Tûrkish, or, as they are usually called, Pathan dynasties. These monarchs exhibited a continued vigour and energy very unusual in the East, and not only sustained and consolidated, but increased by successive conquests from the infidels, that newly-acquired accession to the dominions of the faithful, and during that time Delhi continued practically the capital of this great empire. In the latter half, however, of the 14th century, symptoms of disintegration manifested themselves. One after another the governors of distant provinces reared the standard of revolt, and successfully established{499} independent kingdoms, rivalling the parent state in power and in the splendour of their capitals. Still Delhi remained the nominal head at least of this confederation of states—if it may be so called—till the time when Baber (A.D. 1494), the fourth in descent from Tamerlane, invaded Hindustan. He put an end to the Pathan sway, after it had lasted for three centuries and a half, and finally succeeded in establishing the celebrated dynasty of the Moguls, which during six successive reigns, extending over the extraordinary period of more than two centuries (A.D. 1494-1707), reconsolidated the Moslem empire into one great whole, which reached a degree of splendour and of power almost unknown in the East.

Nothing could be more brilliant, and at the same time more characteristic, than the commencement of the architectural career of these Pathans in India. So soon as they felt themselves at all sure of their conquest, they set to work to erect two great mosques in their two principal capitals of Ajmir and Delhi, of such magnificence as should redound to the glory of their religion and mark their triumph over the idolators. A nation of soldiers equipped for conquest, and that only, they had of course brought with them neither artists nor architects, but, like all nations of Turanian origin, they had strong architectural instincts, and having a style of their own, they could hardly go wrong in any architectural project they might attempt. At the same time, they found among their new subjects an infinite number of artists quite capable of carrying out any design that might be propounded to them.

In the first place, they found in the colonnaded courts of the Jaina temples nearly all that was wanted for a ready-made mosque. All that was required was the removal of the temple in its centre, and the erection of a new wall on the west side, adorned with niches—mihrabs—to point out to the faithful the direction in which Mecca lay, towards which, as is well known, they were commanded in the Koran to turn when they prayed. It is not certain, however, that they were ever in India content with this only. In the two instances at least to which we are now referring, they determined in addition to erect a screen of arches in front of the Jaina pillars, and to adorn it with all the richness and elaboration of carving which their Indian subjects were capable of executing. Nothing could be more successful than the results. There is a largeness and grandeur about the plain simple outline of the Mahomedan arches which quite overshadows the smaller parts of the Hindu fanes, and at the same time the ornamentation, though applied to a greater extent than in any other known examples, is kept so flat as never to interfere with or break the simple outlines of the architectural construction. There may be other examples of surface-decoration as elaborate as this, but hardly anywhere on such a scale. Some parts of the interior of Sta. Sophia at Constantinople{500} are as beautiful,[491] but they are only a few square yards. The palace at Meshita, if completed, might have rivalled it, but it is a fragment;[492] and there may be—certainly were—examples in Persia between the times of Chosroes and Harun al-Rashid, which may have equalled these, but they have perished, or at least are not known to us now; and even if they ever existed, must have been unlike these mosques. In them we find a curious exemplification of some of the best qualities of the art, as exhibited previously by the Hindus, and practised afterwards by their conquerors.

Delhi.

Of the two mosques at Delhi and at Ajmir, the first named is the earlier, having been begun some seven or eight years before the other, and is also very much the larger.[493] It is, besides, associated with the Kutub Minar, and some of the most beautiful tombs of the age, which altogether make up a group with which nothing at Ajmir can compare. The situation, too, of the Delhi ruins is singularly beautiful, for they stand on the gentle slope of a hill, overlooking a plain that had once apparently been a lake, but which afterwards became the site of three successive capitals of the East. In front are the ruins of Tugluckabad, the gigantic fort of an old Pathan chief; and further north the plain is still covered with the ruins of Old Delhi, the capital of the later Pathans and earlier Moguls. Beyond that, at the distance of nine or ten miles, are seen the towers of Shahjehanabad, the modern capital, and till recently the seat of the nominal monarchy of the Great Mogul. Still further north are situated the civil stations and cantonments of the British rulers of the country. It is a fortunate circumstance that the British station was not, as at Agra, placed in the midst of the ruins, since it is to this that we owe their preservation. But for the distance, marble columns would doubtless have been taken for all purposes for which they might have been available, with a total disregard to their beauty, and the interest of the ruins thereby annihilated. Even as it is, the buildings belonging to the celebrated Shahlimar gardens, which were the only buildings of importance in the neighbourhood of the English station, have{501} disappeared; but these are of slight importance as compared with the ruins further south.

The general arrangement of the principal ruins will be understood from the plan (Woodcut No. 277), which was taken with great care, though the scale to which it has been necessary to reduce it prevents all its peculiarities from being seen. To understand it, it is necessary to bear in mind that all the pillars are of Hindu, and all the walls of Mahomedan, architecture.

277. Plan of Ruins in Old Delhi. (From a Plan by the Author.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

It is a little difficult to determine to what extent the pillars now stand as originally arranged by the Hindus, or how far they have been taken down and re-arranged by the conquerors. Even supposing{502} them to be undisturbed, it is quite evident that the enclosing walls were erected by the Moslems, since all the stringcourses are covered with ornaments in their style, and all the openings possess pointed arches, which the Hindus never used. On the whole the probability seems to be that the entire structure was re-arranged in the form we now see it by the Mahomedans. The celebrated mosque at Canouge is undoubtedly a Jaina temple, re-arranged on a plan precisely similar to that of the mosque of Amrou at Old Cairo (Woodcut No. 921, vol. ii.). The roof and domes are all of Jaina architecture, so that no trace of the Moorish style is to be seen internally; but the exterior is as purely of Mahomedan architecture. There is another mosque at Dhar, near Mandu, of more modern date, and, without doubt, a re-arrangement of a Jaina temple. Another, in the fort at Jaunpore, as well as many other mosques at Ahmedabad and elsewhere, all show the same system of taking down and re-arranging the materials on a different plan. If, therefore, the pillars at the Kutub were in situ, the case would be exceptional;[494] but I cannot, nevertheless, help suspecting that the two-storeyed pavilions in the angles, and those behind the screen may be as originally erected, and some of the others may be so also; but to this we will return when speaking of the Ajmir mosque, where the Jaina pillars are almost certainly as first arranged. It is quite certain, however, that some of the pillars at the Kutub are made up of dissimilar fragments, and were placed where they now stand by the builders of the mosque. The only question—and it is not a very important one—is, how many were so treated? It may, however, be necessary to explain that there could be no difficulty in taking down and rebuilding these erections, because the joints of the pillars are all fitted with the precision that Hindu patience alone could give. Each compartment of the roof is composed of nine stones—four architraves, four angular and one central slab (as explained in diagram No. 114, p. 214), all so exactly fitted, and so independent of cement, as easily to be taken down and put up again. The same is true of the domes, all which being honestly and fairly fitted, would suffer no damage from the process of removal and re-erection.

The section (Woodcut No. 278) of one half of the principal colonnade (the one facing the great series of arches) will explain its{503} form better than words can do. It is so purely Jaina, that it should, perhaps, have been mentioned in speaking of that style; but as forming a part of the earliest mosque in India, it is more appropriately introduced in this place. The pillars are of the same order as those used on Mount Abu (Woodcut No. 130), except that those at Delhi are much richer and more elaborate. Most of them probably belong to the 11th or 12th century, and are among the few specimens to be found in India that seem to be overloaded with ornament. There is not one inch of plain surface from the capital to the base, except the pillars behind the screen and some others which may belong to older buildings. Still the ornament is so sharp and so cleverly executed, and the effect, in their present state of decay and ruin so picturesque, that it is very difficult to find fault with what is so beautiful. In some instances the figures that were on the shafts of the pillars have been cut off, as offensive to Mahomedan strictness with regard to idolatrous images; but on the roof and less seen parts, the cross-legged figures of the Jaina saints, and other emblems of that religion, may still be detected.

278. Section of part of East Colonnade at the Kutub, Old Delhi. Scale 25 ft. to 1 in.

The glory of the mosque, however, is not in these Hindu remains, but in the great range of arches on the western side, extending north and south for about 385 ft., and consisting of three greater and eight smaller arches; the central one 22 ft. wide and 53 ft. high; the larger side-arches 24 ft. 4 in., and about the same height as the central arch; the smaller arches, which are unfortunately much ruined, are about half these dimensions (Woodcut No. 279). Behind this, at the distance of 32 ft., are the foundations of another wall; but only intended, apparently, to be carried as high as the roof of the Hindu pillars it encloses. It seems probable that the Hindu pillars between the two screens were the only part proposed to be roofed, since some of them are built into the back part of the great arches, and all above them is quite plain and smooth, without the least trace of any intention to construct a vault or roof of any sort. Indeed, a roof is by no means an essential part of a mosque; a wall facing Mecca is all that{504} is required, and in India is frequently all that is built, though an enclosure is often added in front to protect the worshippers from interruption. Roofed colonnades are, of course, convenient and ornamental accompaniments, yet far from being indispensable.

279. Central Range of Arches at the Kutub. (From a Sketch by the Author.)

The history of this mosque, as told in its construction, is as curious as anything about it. It seems that the Afghan conquerors had a tolerably distinct idea that pointed arches were the true form for architectural openings; but, being without science sufficient to construct them, they left the Hindu architects and builders whom they employed to follow their own devices as to the mode of carrying out the form. The Hindus up to this time had never built arches—nor, indeed, did they for centuries afterwards. Accordingly, they proceeded to make the pointed openings on the same principle upon which they built their domes. They carried them up in horizontal courses as far as they could, and then closed them by long slabs meeting at the top, the construction being, in fact, that of the arch of the aqueduct at Tusculum, shown in Woodcut No. 178, vol. i.[495] The{505} same architects were employed by their masters to ornament the faces of these arches; and this they did by copying and repeating the ornaments on the pillars and friezes on the opposite sides of the court, covering the whole with a lace-work of intricate and delicate carving, such as no other mosque except that at Ajmir ever received before or since; and which—though perhaps in a great measure thrown away when used on such a scale—is, without exception, the most exquisite specimen of its class known to exist anywhere. The stone being particularly hard and good, the carving retains its freshness to the present day, and is only destroyed above the arches, where the faulty Hindu construction has superinduced premature decay.

280. Minar of Kutub.

(From a Sketch by the Author.)

The Kutub Minar, or great minaret, is 48 ft. 4 in. in diameter at the base, and, when measured in 1794, was 242 ft. in height.[496] Even then, however, its capital was ruined, so that some 10 ft., or perhaps 20 ft., must be added to this to complete its original elevation. It is ornamented by four boldly-projecting balconies; one at 97 ft., the second at 148 ft., the third at 188 ft., and the fourth at 214 ft. from the ground; between which are richly-sculptured raised belts containing inscriptions. In the lower storey the projecting ribs which form the flutes are alternately angular and circular; in the second circular and in the third angular only. Above this the minar is plain, and principally of white marble, with belts of the same red sandstone of which the three lower storeys are composed (Woodcut No. 280).{506}

It is not clear whether the angular flutings are copied from some peculiarity found in the minarets at Khorasan and further westward, or whether they are derived from the forms of the temples of the Jains. The forms of the bases of the minarets at Ghazni appear to lend probability to the first hypothesis; but the star-like form of many temples—principally Jaina—in Mysore and elsewhere (ante, p. 394, et seqq.) would seem to countenance the idea of their being of Hindu origin. No star-like forms have yet, however, been found so far north, and their destruction has been too complete for us to hope that they may be found now. Be this as it may, it is probably not too much to assert that the Kutub Minar is the most beautiful example of its class known to exist anywhere. The rival that will occur at once to most people is the campanile at Florence, built by Giotto. That is, it is true, 30 ft. taller, but it is crushed by the mass of the cathedral alongside; and, beautiful though it is, it wants that poetry of design and exquisite finish of detail which marks every moulding of the minar. It might have been better if the slope of the sides had been at a higher angle, but that is only apparent when seen at a distance; when viewed from the court of the mosque its form is perfect, and, under any aspect, is preferable to the prosaic squareness of the outline of the Italian example.

The only Mahomedan building known to be taller than this is the minaret of the mosque of Hassan, at Cairo (p. 389 and Woodcut No. 928, vol. ii.); but as the pillar at Old Delhi is a wholly independent building, it has a far nobler appearance, and both in design and finish far surpasses not only its Egyptian rival, but any building of its class known to me in the whole world. This, however, must not be looked at as if erected for the same purposes as those usually attached to mosques elsewhere. It was not designed as a place from which the müeddin should call the prayers, though its lower gallery may have been used for that purpose also, but as a Tower of Victory—a Jaya Stambha, in fact—an emblem of conquest, which the Hindus could only too easily understand and appreciate.

At the distance of 470 ft. north of this one a second minar was commenced, by Ala ud-dîn, of twice its dimensions, or 297 ft. in circumference. It was only carried up to the height of 40 ft., and abandoned probably in consequence of the removal of the seat of government to the new capital of Tugluckabad.

The date of all these buildings is known with sufficient exactness from the inscriptions which they bear,[497] from which it appears that the inner court was enclosed by Shahab ud-dîn. The central range of arches (Woodcut No. 279) was built by Kutub ud-dîn; the wings{507} by Altumsh, whose tomb is behind the northern range, and the Kutub Minar was either built or finished by the same monarch; they extend, therefore, from A.D. 1196-1235, at which date they were left incomplete in consequence of the death of the last-named king.

281. Iron Pillar at Kutub. (From a Photograph.) The dotted line shows the extent below the ground.

One of the most interesting objects connected with this mosque is the iron pillar which stands—and apparently always has stood—in the centre of its courtyard (Woodcut No. 281). It now stands 22 ft. above the ground, and as the depth under the pavement is now ascer{508}tained to be only 20 in., the total height is 23 ft. 8 in.[498] Its diameter at the base is 16·4 in., at the capital 12·05 in. The capital is 3½ ft. high, and is sharply and clearly wrought into the Persian form that makes it look as if it belonged to an earlier period than it does; and it has the amalaka moulding, which is indicative of considerable antiquity. It has not, however, been yet correctly ascertained what its age really is. There is an inscription upon it, but without a date. From the form of its alphabet, Prinsep ascribed it to the 3rd or 4th century;[499] Bhau Daji, on the same evidence, to the end of the 5th or beginning of the 6th century.[500] The truth probably lies between the two. My own conviction is that it belongs to one of the Chandra Rajas of the Gupta dynasty, either consequently to A.D. 363 or A.D. 400.

Taking A.D. 400 as a mean date—and it certainly is not far from the truth—it opens our eyes to an unsuspected state of affairs to find the Hindus at that age capable of forging a bar of iron larger than any that have been forged even in Europe up to a very late date, and not frequently even now. As we find them, however, a few centuries afterwards using bars as long as this lât in roofing the porch of the temple at Kanaruc (ante, p. 222), we must now believe that they were much more familiar with the use of this metal than they afterwards became. It is almost equally startling to find that, after an exposure to wind and rain for fourteen centuries, it is unrusted, and the capital and inscription are as clear and as sharp now as when put up fourteen centuries ago.[501]

As the inscription informs us the pillar was dedicated to Vishnu,{509} there is little doubt that it originally supported a figure of Garuda on the summit which the Mahomedans of course removed; but the real object of its erection was as a pillar of victory to record the “defeat of the Balhikas,[502] near the seven mouths of the Sindhu,” or Indus. It is, to say the least of it, a curious coincidence, that eight centuries afterwards men from that same Bactrian country should have erected a Jaya Stambha ten times as tall as this one, in the same courtyard, to celebrate their victory over the descendants of those Hindus who so long before had expelled their ancestors from the country.

Immediately behind the north-west corner of the mosque stands the tomb of Altumsh, the founder. Though small, it is one of the richest examples of Hindu art applied to Mahomedan purposes that Old Delhi affords, and is extremely beautiful, though the builders still display a certain degree of inaptness in fitting the details to their new purposes. The effect at present is injured by the want of a roof, which, judging from appearance, was never completed, if ever commenced. In addition to the beauty of its details it is interesting as being the oldest tomb known to exist in India. He died A.D. 1236.

282. Interior of a Tomb at Old Delhi. (From a Sketch by the Author.)

A more beautiful example than even this is the other, shown on the left hand of the plan (Woodcut No. 277). It was erected by Ala ud-dîn Khilji, and the date 1310 is found among its inscriptions. It is therefore about{510} a century more modern than the other buildings of the place, and displays the Pathan style at its period of greatest perfection, when the Hindu masons had learned to fit their exquisite style of decoration to the forms of their foreign masters. Its walls are decorated internally with a diaper pattern of unrivalled excellence, and the mode in which the square is changed into an octagon is more simply elegant and appropriate than any other example I am acquainted with in India. The pendentives accord perfectly with the pointed openings in the four other faces, and are in every respect appropriately constructive.[503] True, there are defects. For instance, they are rather too plain for the elaborate diapering which covers the whole of the lower part of the building both internally and externally; but ornament might easily have been added; and their plainness accords with the simplicity of the dome, which is indeed by no means worthy of the substructure. Not being pierced with windows, it seems as if the architect assumed that its plainness would not be detected in the gloom that in consequence prevails.

This building, though small—it is only 53 ft. square externally, and with an internal apartment only 34 ft. 6 in. in plan—marks the culminating point of the Pathan style in Delhi. Nothing so complete had been done before, nothing so ornate was attempted by them afterwards. In the provinces wonderful buildings were erected between this period and the Mogul conquest, but in the capital their edifices were more marked by solemn gloom and nakedness than by ornamentation or any of the higher graces of architectural art. Externally it is a good deal damaged, but its effect is still equal to that of any building of its class in India.

Ajmir.

The mosque at Ajmir (Woodcut No. 283) was commenced apparently in the year 1200 and was certainly completed during the reign of Altumsh, A.D. 1211-1236.[504] According to tradition, it was finished in two days and a half; hence the only name by which it is now known—the “Arhai dîn ka Jhompra,” which, if it means anything, can only apply to the clearing away of the Pagan temples and symbols, and the dedication of a heathen shrine to purposes of the Faithful. In this instance it seems almost certain, whatever may be the case at Delhi, that the pillars are in situ. At all events, if they were taken down by the Mahomedans, they certainly have been re-erected exactly as they were originally designed to stand.[505] The pillars, their archi{511}traves, the roofing stones, and the domes, are all of a piece, and so exactly what we find at Abu and Girnar as to leave no doubt that we see before us a part of the courtyard of a Jaina Temple, which probably had been used by the followers of that religion for a couple of centuries at least before it was appropriated by the conquerors. It is only the west side, with its nine domes, that is now standing. The cloisters on the other three sides are in ruins, though their plan can easily be traced even now. What remains, however, is sufficient to show that it must originally have been a singularly elegant specimen of its class. The pillars are taller and more slender than those of the mosque at Delhi, but purer and more elegant in design.

283. Mosque at Ajmir. (Compiled from a Plan by Gen. Cunningham.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

The glory, however, of this mosque, as of that of the Kutub, is the screen of seven arches with which Altumsh adorned the courtyard (Woodcut No. 284). Its dimensions are very similar to those of its rival. The central arch is 22 ft. 3 in. wide; the two on either side 13 ft. 6 in., and the outer one at each end 10 ft. 4 in. In the centre the screen rises to a height of 56 ft., and on it are the ruins of two small minarets 10½ ft. in diameter, ornamented with alternate circular and angular flutes, as in the lower storey of the Kutub. It is not clear{512}

284. Great Arch in Mosque at Ajmir. (From a Photograph.)

whether anything of the same sort existed at Delhi—probably not, as the great minar may have served for that purpose, and their introduction here looks like an afterthought, and the production of an unpractised hand working in an unfamiliar style. Wherever and whenever minars were afterwards introduced, preparations for them were always made from the foundations, and their lines are always carried down to the ground, in some shape or other, as in true art they ought to be. This solecism, if it may be so called, evidently arose from the architects being Hindus, unfamiliar with the style; and to this also is due the fact that all the arches are constructed on the horizontal principle. There is not a true arch in the place;{513} but, owing to their having the command of larger stones than were available at Delhi, the arches are not here crippled, as they were there before the late repairs.

It is neither, however, its dimensions nor design that makes this screen one of the most remarkable architectural objects in India, but the mode in which it is decorated. Nothing can exceed the taste with which the Cufic and Togra inscriptions are interwoven with the more purely architectural decorations, or the manner in which they give life and variety to the whole, without ever interfering with the constructive lines of the design. As before remarked, as examples of surface-decoration, these two mosques of Altumsh at Delhi and Ajmir are probably unrivalled. Nothing in Cairo or in Persia is so exquisite in detail, and nothing in Spain or Syria can approach them for beauty of surface-decoration. Besides this, they are unique. Nowhere else would it be possible to find Mahomedan largeness of conception, combined with Hindu delicacy of ornamentation, carried out to the same extent and in the same manner. If to this we add their historical value as the first mosques erected in India, and their ethnographic importance as bringing out the leading characteristics of the two races in so distinct and marked a manner, there are certainly no two buildings in India that better deserve the protecting care of Government; the one has received its fair share of attention; the other has been most shamefully neglected, and latterly most barbarously ill-treated.[506]{514}

Later Pathan Style.

After the death of Ala ud-dîn (A.D. 1316) a change seems to have come over the spirit of the Pathan architects, and all their subsequent buildings, down to the time of Shere Shah, A.D. 1539, exhibit a stern simplicity of design, in marked contrast to the elaborate ornamentation with which they began. It is not clear whether this arose from any puritanical reaction against the quasi-Hinduism of the earlier examples, or from any political causes, the effect of which it is now difficult to trace: but, certain it is, that when that stern old warrior Tugluck Shah, A.D. 1321, founded the New Delhi, which still bears his name—Tugluckabad—all his buildings are characterised by a severe simplicity, in marked contrast with those which his predecessors erected in the capital that overlooks the plain in which his citadel is situated. His tomb, which was finished at least, if not built, by his successor, instead of being situated in a garden, as is usually the case, stands by itself in a strongly-fortified citadel of its own, surrounded by an artificial lake. The sloping walls and almost Egyptian solidity of this mausoleum, combined with the bold and massive towers of the fortifications that surround it, form a model of a warrior’s tomb hardly to be rivalled anywhere, and in singular contrast with the elegant and luxuriant garden-tombs of the more settled and peaceful dynasties that succeeded.

The change, however, of most interest from a historical point of view is, that by the time of Tugluck Shah’s reign, the Moslems had worked themselves entirely free from Hindu influence. In his buildings all the arches are true arches; all the details invented for the place where they are found. His tomb, in fact, would be as appropriate—more so, indeed—if found in the valley of the Nile than on the banks of the Jumna; and from that time forward Mahomedan architecture in India was a new and complete style in itself, and developed according to the natural and inevitable sequences of true styles in all parts of the world.

It is true, nevertheless, that in their tombs, as well as in their mosques, they frequently, to save themselves trouble, used Hindu materials when they were available, and often with the most picturesque effect. Many of these compound edifices are composed of four pillars only, surmounted by a small dome; but frequently they adopt with the pillars the Jaina arrangement of twelve pillars, so placed as to support an octagonal framework, easily moulded into a circular basement for a dome. This, as before observed, is the arrangement of the tomb at Mylassa, and the formative idea of all that is beautiful in the plans of Jaina buildings in India.

One example must suffice to explain the effect of these buildings{515} (Woodcut No. 285). At first sight the dome looks rather heavy for the substructure; but the effect of the whole is so picturesque that it is difficult to find fault with it. If all the materials were original, the design would be open to criticism; but, when a portion is avowedly borrowed, a slight want of balance between the parts may be excused.

285. Pathan Tomb at Shepree, near Gualior. (From a Sketch by the Author.)

There are several examples of tombs of this sort at the Bakaraya Kund in Benares, evidently made up from Jaina materials;[507] and, indeed, wherever the Mahomedans fairly settled themselves on a site previously occupied by the Jains, such combinations are frequent; but no attempt is ever made to assimilate the parts that are Mahomedan with those belonging to the Hindu style which they are employing; they are of the age in which the tomb or mosque was built, and that age, consequently, easily recognisable by any one familiar with the style.

The usual form of a Pathan tomb will be better understood from the following woodcut (No. 286), representing a nameless sepulchre among the hundreds that still strew the plains of Old Delhi. It consists of an octagonal apartment, about 50 ft. in diameter, surrounded by a verandah following the same form, each face being ornamented{516} by three arches of the stilted pointed form generally adopted by the Pathans, and it is supported by double square columns, which are almost as universal with them as this form of arch.

286. Tomb at Old Delhi. (From a Sketch by the Author.)

It is a form evidently borrowed from the square pier of the Jains, but so altered and so simplified, that it requires some ingenuity to recognise its origin in its new combination.

287. Tomb of Shere Shah at Sasseram. No scale.

The series of Pathan tombs closes with that of Shere Shah (Woodcut No. 287), the last but one and the most illustrious of his race. It is situated on a square terrace in the middle of a large tank, near Sasseram, in Shahabad, and, from its locality and its design, is now a singularly picturesque object (Woodcut No. 288). Its dimensions too are considerable.[508] Its base is an octagon, 54 ft. on each side externally. In the interior a gallery, 10 ft. wide, surrounds the central apartment, which is sur{517}mounted by a dome 65 ft. in diameter, beneath which stands the tomb of the founder and of some of his favourite companions in arms.

288. Tomb of Shere Shah. (From a Photograph.)

On the exterior, the terrace on which it stands is ornamented by bold octagonal pavilions in the angles, which support appropriately the central dome, and the little bracketed kiosks between them break pleasingly the outline. In the same manner the octagonal kiosks that cluster round the drum of the dome, and the dome itself, relieve the monotony of the composition without detracting from its solidity or apparent solemnity. Altogether, as a royal tomb of the second class, there are few that surpass it in India, either for beauty of outline or appropriateness of detail. Originally it was connected with the mainland by a bridge, which fortunately was broken down before the{518} grand trunk road passed near. But for this, it would probably have been utilised before now.

The mosques of the Pathans bore the same aspect as their tombs. The so-called Kala Musjid in the present city of Delhi, and finished, according to an inscription on its walls, in A.D. 1389, is in a style not unlike the tomb (Woodcut No. 286), but more massive, and even less ornamented. This severe simplicity seems to have been the characteristic of the latter part of the 14th century, and may have been a protest of the more puritanical Moslem spirit against the Hindu exuberance which characterised both the 13th and the 15th centuries. A reaction, however, took place, and the late Pathan style of Delhi was hardly less rich, and certainly far more appropriate for the purposes to which it was devoted than the first style, as exhibited in the buildings at the Kutub.

This, however, was principally owing to the exceptional splendour of the reign of Shere Shah, who, however, is so mixed up both in date and in association with the earlier Moguls, that it is difficult to discriminate between them. Though Baber practically conquered India in A.D. 1494, his successor, Humayun, was defeated and driven from the throne by Shere Shah in A.D. 1540, and it was only in A.D. 1554 that the Mogul dynasty was finally and securely established at Delhi. The style consequently of the first half of the 16th century may be considered as the last expiring effort of the Pathans, or the first dawn of that of the great Moguls, and it was well worthy of either.

At this age the façades of these mosques became far more ornamental, and more frequently encrusted with marbles, and always adorned with sculpture of a rich and beautiful character; the angles of the buildings were also relieved by little kiosks, supported by four richly bracketed pillars, but never with minarets, which, so far as I know, were not attached to mosques during the Pathan period. The call to prayer was made from the roof; and, except the first rude attempt at Ajmir, I do not know a single instance of a minaret built for such a purpose, though they were, as we know, universal in Egypt and elsewhere long before this time, and were considered nearly indispensable in the buildings of the Moguls very shortly afterwards. The Pathans seem to have regarded the minar as the Italians viewed the Campanile, more as a symbol of power and of victory than as an adjunct to a house of worship.

The body of the mosque became generally an oblong hall, with a central dome flanked by two others of the same horizontal dimensions, but not so lofty, and separated from it by a broad bold arch, the mouldings and decorations of which formed one of the principal ornaments of the building.

The pendentives were even more remarkable than the arches for elaborateness of detail. Their forms are so various that it is impossible{519} to classify or describe them; perhaps the most usual is that represented in Woodcut No. 289, where the angle is filled up with a number of small imitations of arches, bracketing out one beyond the other. It was this form that was afterwards converted into the honeycomb work of the Arabs in Spain.

289. Pendentive from Mosque at Old Delhi. (From a Sketch by the Author.)

If it were not that the buildings of the Pathans are so completely eclipsed by the greater splendour of those of the Mogul dynasty, which succeeded them in their own capitals, their style would have attracted more attention than has hitherto been bestowed upon it; and its monograph would be as interesting as any that the Indian-Saracenic affords. In its first period the style was characterised by all the richness which Hindu elaboration could bestow; in the second by a stern simplicity and grandeur much more appropriate, according to our ideas, to the spirit of the people; and during the latter part of its existence, by a return to the elaborateness of the past; but at this period every detail was fitted to its place and its purpose. We forget the Hindu except in his delicacy, and we recognise in this last development one of the completed architectural styles of the world.{520}

## CHAPTER IV.
JAUNPORE.

CONTENTS.

Mosques of Jumma Musjid and Lall Durwaza.

CHRONOLOGY.

Khoja Jehan assumes independence at Jaunpore | A.D. 1397
Mubarick, his son | 1400
Shems ud-dîn—Ibrahim Shah | 1401
Mahmúd | 1441
Husain Shah | 1451
—— deposed and seeks refuge at Gaur | 1478

It was just two centuries after the conquest of India by the Moslems that Khoja Jehan, the Soubahdar or governor of the province in which Jaunpore is situated, assumed independence, and established a dynasty which maintained itself for nearly a century, from A.D. 1397 to about 1478, and though then reconquered by the sovereign of Delhi, still retained a sort of semi-independence till finally incorporated in the Mogul empire by the great Akbar. During this period Jaunpore was adorned by several large mosques, three of which still remain tolerably entire, and a considerable number of tombs, palaces, and other buildings, besides a fort and bridge, all of which are as remarkable specimens of their class of architecture as are to be found anywhere in India.

Although so long after the time when under Ala ud-dîn and Tugluck Shah the architecture of the capital had assumed something like completeness, it is curious to observe how imperfect the amalgamation was in the provinces at the time when the principal buildings at Jaunpore were erected. The principal parts of the mosques, such as the gateways, the great halls, and the western parts generally, are in a complete arcuate style. Wherever indeed wide openings and large internal spaces were wanted, arches and domes and radiating vaults were employed, and there is little in those parts to distinguish this architecture from that of the capitals. But in the cloisters that surround the courts, and in the galleries in the interior, short square pillars are as generally employed, with bracket capitals, horizontal architraves, and roofs formed of flat slabs, as was invariably the case in Hindu and Jaina temples. Instead of being fused together, as they afterwards became, the arcuate style of the Moslems stands here, though in juxtaposition, in such marked contrast to the trabeate style{521} of the Hindus, that some authors have been led to suppose that the pillared parts belonged to ancient Jaina or Buddhist monuments, which had been appropriated by the Mahomedans and converted to their purposes.[509] The truth of the matter appears to be, that the greater part of the Mahomedans in the province at the time the mosques were built were Hindus converted to that religion, and who still clung to their native forms when these did not clash with their new faith; and the masons were almost certainly those whose traditions and whose taste inclined them much more to the old trabeate forms than to the newly-introduced arched style.

As we shall presently see at Gaur, on the one hand, the arched style prevailed from the first, because the builders had no other material than brick, and large openings were then impossible without arches. At Ahmedabad, on the other hand, in an essentially Jaina country, and where stone was abundant, the pillared forms were not only as commonly employed, as at Jaunpore, but were used for so long a time, that before the country was absorbed in the Mogul empire, the amalgamation between the trabeate and arcuate forms was complete.

The oldest mosque at Jaunpore is that in the fort, which we learn from an inscription on it, was completed in A.D. 1398. It is not large—barely 100 ft. north and south—and consists of a central block of masonry, with a large archway, of the usual style of the Mahomedan architecture of the period, and five openings between pillars on either hand. The front rows of these pillars are richly sculptured, and were evidently taken from some temple that existed there, or in the neighbourhood, before the Moslem occupation, but they seem to have exhausted the stock, as no other such are found in any of the mosques built subsequently.[510]

There are three great mosques still standing in the city; of these the grandest is the Jumma Musjid (Woodcuts Nos. 290, 291), or Friday{522}

290. Plan of Western Half of Courtyard of Jumma Musjid, Jaunpore. (From a Plan by the Author.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

291. View of lateral Gateway of Jumma Musjid, Jaunpore. (From a Drawing by the Author.)

Mosque, which was commenced by Shah Ibrahim, A.D. 1419, but not completed till the reign of Husain, A.D. 1451-1478. It consists of a courtyard 220 ft. by 214 ft., on the western side of which is situated a range of buildings, the central one covered by a dome 40 ft. in diameter{523},

292. Lall Durwaza Mosque, Jaunpore. (From a Drawing by the Author.)

in front of which stands a gate pyramid or propylon,[511] of almost Egyptian mass and outline, rising to the height of 86 ft. This gate pyramid by its elevation supplied the place of a minaret, which is a feature as little known at Jaunpore, as it was, at the same age, in the capital city of Delhi. On each side of the dome is a compartment divided into two storeys by a stone floor supported on pillars; and beyond this, on each side, is an apartment 40 ft. by 50 ft., covered by a bold pointed vault with ribs, so constructed that its upper surface forms the external roof of the building, which in Gothic vaults is scarcely ever the case. The three sides of the courtyard were surrounded by double colonnades, two storeys in height internally, but with three on the exterior, the floor of the courtyard being raised to the height of the lower storey. On each face was a handsome gateway; one of which is represented in Woodcut No. 291, which gives{524} a fair idea of the style: the greater part of the eastern side of the court has been taken down and removed by the English to repair station-roads and bridges, for which in their estimation these pillars are admirably adapted.

The smallest of the mosques in the city is the Lall Durwaza or Red Gate. It is in the same style as the others; and its propylon—represented in Woodcut No. 292—displays not only the bold massiveness with which these mosques were erected, but shows also that strange admixture of Hindu and Mahomedan architecture which pervaded the style during the whole period of its continuance.

Of all the mosques remaining at Jaunpore, the Atala Musjid is the most ornate and the most beautiful. The colonnades surrounding its court are four aisles in depth, the outer columns, as well as those next the court, being double square pillars. The three intermediate rows are single square columns, supporting a flat roof of slabs, arranged as in Jaina temples. Externally, too, it is two storeys in height, the lower storey being occupied by a series of cells opening outwardly. All this is so like a Hindu arrangement that one might almost at first sight be tempted, like Baron Hügel, to fancy it was originally a Buddhist monastery. He failed to remark, however, that both here and in the Jumma Musjid the cells open outwardly, and are below the level of the courtyard of the mosque—an arrangement common enough in Mahomedan, but never found in Buddhist buildings. Its gateways, however, which are the principal ornaments of the outer court, are purely Saracenic, and the western face is adorned by three propylons similar to that represented in the last woodcut, but richer and more beautiful, while its interior domes and roofs are superior to any other specimen of Mahomedan art I am acquainted with of so early an age. They are, too, perhaps, more striking here, because, though in juxtaposition with the quasi-Hinduism of the court, they exhibit the arched style of the Saracenic architects in as great a degree of completeness as it exhibited at any subsequent period.

The other buildings hardly require particular mention, though, as transition specimens between the two styles, these Jaunpore examples are well worthy of illustration, and in themselves possess a simplicity and grandeur not often met with in this style. An appearance of strength, moreover, is imparted to them by their sloping walls, which is foreign to our general conception of Saracenic art, though at Tugluckabad and elsewhere it is carried even further than at Jaunpore. Among the Pathans of India the expression of strength is as characteristic of the style as massiveness is of that of the Normans in England. In India it is found conjoined with a degree of refinement seldom met with elsewhere, and totally free from the coarseness which in other countries usually besets vigour and boldness of design.{525}

The peculiarities of this style are by no means confined to the capital; they prevail at Gazeepore, and as far north as Canouge, while at Benares the examples are frequent. In the suburbs of that city, at a place called the Bakaraya Kund,[512] there is a group of tombs, as mentioned above, and other buildings belonging to the Moslems, which are singularly pleasing specimens of the Jaunpore style, and certainly belong to the same age as those just described.

The kingdom of Jaunpore is also rich in little tombs and shrines in which the Moslems have used up Hindu and Jaina pillars, merely rearranging them after their own fashion. These, of course, will not bear criticism as architectural designs, but there is always something so indescribably picturesque about them as fairly to extort admiration. The principal example of this compound style is a mosque at Canouge, known popularly as “Sita ka Rasui,” “Sita’s kitchen.” It is a Jaina temple, rearranged as a mosque, in the manner described at pp. 263-4. It measures externally 133 ft. by 120 ft. The mosque itself has four rows of fifteen columns each, and three domes. The cloisters surrounding the court are only two rows in depth, and had originally sixty-eight pillars, smaller than those of the mosque. Externally it has no great beauty, but its pillared court is very picturesque and pleasing. According to an inscription over its principal gateway, its conversion was effected by Ibrahim Shah, of Jaunpore, A.D. 1406.[513]

At a later age, and even after it had lost its independence, several important buildings were erected in the capital and in other towns of the kingdom in the style of the day; but none of these, so far as is now known, are of sufficient importance to require notice in such a work as the present.{526}

## CHAPTER V.
GUJERAT.

CONTENTS.

Jumma Musjid and other Mosques at Ahmedabad—Tombs and Mosques at Sirkej and Butwa—Buildings in the Provinces.

CHRONOLOGY.

Muzaffar Shah, a Rajput, appointed Viceroy | A.D. 1391
Ahmed Shah, his grandson, founds Ahmedabad | 1411
Mohammed Shah the Merciful | 1443
Kutub Shah; war with Rana Khumbo | 1454
Mahmúd Shah Begurra | 1459
Muzaffar Shah II. | 1511
Bahadur Shah murdered by Portuguese | 1526
Muzaffar Shah III. | 1561
Gujerat becomes a province of Akbar’s kingdom | 1583

Of the various forms which the Saracenic architecture assumed in India, that of Ahmedabad may probably be considered as the most elegant, as it certainly is the most characteristic of all. No other form is so essentially Indian, and no one tells its tale with the same unmistakable distinctness.

As mentioned above, the Mahomedans, in the first century of the Hejira, made a brilliant attempt to conquer Scinde and Gujerat, and apparently succeeded; but the country was so populous, and its civilization so great, that the invaders were absorbed, and soon disappeared from the scene.

Mahmúd of Ghazni next overran the province, but left no permanent mark; and even after the fall of Delhi (A.D. 1196) Gujerat maintained the struggle for independence for nearly two centuries longer, till Feroze Tugluck, in A.D. 1391, appointed Muzaffar, a converted Rajput, of the Tak clan, to be his viceroy. This, however, was only on the eve of the troubles caused by the invasion of Tamerlane, and, mutato domino, Gujerat remained as independent as before.

The next two centuries—during which the Ahmed Shahi dynasty occupied the throne—were spent in continual wars and struggles with their refractory vassals and the neighbouring chiefs. On the whole, however, their power may be said to have been gradually on the increase till the death of Bahadur, A.D. 1536, but they never wholly subdued the rebellious spirit of their subjects, and certainly never converted the bulk of them to their faith. As a consequence of this, the principal buildings with which this chapter is concerned are{527} to be found in the capital and its immediate proximity. Beyond that the Hindus followed their old faith and built temples as before; though in such large cities as Cambay or Baroach the Mahomedans, of course, possessed places of worship, some of them of considerable importance, and generally made up from pillars borrowed from Hindu buildings.

In Ahmedabad itself, however, the Hindu influence continued to be felt throughout. Even the mosques are Hindu, or rather Jaina, in every detail; only here and there an arch is inserted, not because it was wanted constructively, but because it was a symbol of the faith, while in their tombs and palaces even this is generally wanting. The truth of the matter is, the Mahomedans had forced themselves upon the most civilized and most essentially building race at that time in India, and the Chalukyas conquered their conquerors, and forced them to adopt forms and ornaments which were superior to any the invaders knew or could have introduced. The result is a style which combines all the elegance and finish of Jaina or Chalukyan art, with a certain largeness of conception which the Hindu never quite attained, but which is characteristic of the people who at this time were subjecting all India to their sway.

The first seat of the Mahomedan power was Anhilwarra, the old capital of the Rajputs, and which, at the time it fell into their power, must have been one of the most splendid cities of the East. Little now remains of all its magnificence, if we may trust what is said by recent travellers who have visited its deserted palaces. Ahmed, the second king, removed the seat of power to a town called Kurnawutti, afterwards known as Ahmedabad, from the name of its second founder, and which, with characteristic activity, he set about adorning with splendid edifices. Of these the principal was the Jumma Musjid, which, though not remarkable for its size, is one of the most beautiful mosques in the East. Its arrangement will be understood from the next plan (Woodcut No. 293). Its dimensions are 382 ft. by 258 ft. over all externally; the mosque itself being 210 ft. by 95 ft., covering consequently about 20,000 sq. ft. Within the mosque itself are 260 pillars, supporting fifteen domes arranged symmetrically, the centre three alone being somewhat larger and considerably higher than the others. If the plan is compared with that of the temple at Sadri (Woodcut No. 133), which was being erected at the same time by Khumbo Rana within 160 miles of Ahmedabad, it will afford a fair means of comparison between the Jaina and Mahomedan arrangements of that day. The form of the pillars and the details generally are practically the same in both buildings, the Hindu being somewhat richer and more elaborate. In plan, the mosque looks monotonous as compared with the temple; but this is redeemed, to some extent, by the different heights of the domes, as shown in the elevation (Wood{528}cut No. 294), and by the elevation of each division being studiously varied. My own feeling is in favour of the poetry of the temple, but there is a sobriety about the plan of the mosque which, after all, may be in better taste. Both plans, it need hardly be remarked, are infinitely superior to the monotony of the southern halls of 1000 pillars. The latter are remarkable for their size and the amount of labour bestowed upon them, but it requires more than this to constitute good architecture.

293. Plan of Jumma Musjid, Ahmedabad. Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

294. Elevation of the Jumma Musjid. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

{529}

The general character of the elevation will be understood from the woodcut No. 294, but unfortunately its minarets are gone. When Forbes[514] drew it, they were still standing, and were celebrated in Eastern story as the shaking minarets of Ahmedabad; an earthquake in A.D. 1818 shook them too much, but there are several others still standing in the city from which their form can easily be restored.

295. Plan of the Queen’s Mosque, Mirzapore. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

296. Elevation of the Queen’s Mosque, Mirzapore. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

297. Section of Diagram explanatory of the Mosques at Ahmedabad.

The plan and lateral extension of the Jumma Musjid are exceptional. The usual form taken by the mosques at Ahmedabad was that of the Queen’s Mosque at Mirzapore, and consists of three domes standing on twelve pillars each, with the central part so raised as to admit light to the interior. The mode in which this was effected will be understood from the annexed diagram (Woodcut No. 297). The pillars which support the central domes are twice as high as those of the side domes, and two rows of dwarf columns stand on the roof to make up the height.{530} In front of these internally is a solid balustrade, which is generally most richly ornamented by carving. Thus arranged, it will be perceived that the necessary amount of light is introduced, as in the drum of a Byzantine dome, but in a more artistic manner. The sun’s rays can never fall on the floor, or even so low as the head of any one standing there. The light is reflected from the external roof into the dome, and perfect ventilation is obtained, with the most pleasing effect of illumination without glare. In order further to guard against the last dreaded contingency, in most of these mosques a screen of perforated stonework was introduced between the outer dwarf columns. These screens were frequently of the most exquisite beauty, and in consequence have very generally been removed.

There are three or four mosques at Ahmedabad, built on the same pattern as that last described, but as the style progressed it became more and more Indian. The arches in front were frequently omitted, and only a screen of columns appeared, supported by two minarets, one at each angle. This system was carried to its greatest extent at Sirkej, about five miles from the city. Mohammed Shah, in A.D. 1445, commenced erecting a tomb (A on Woodcut No. 298) here, in honour of Ahmed Gunj Buksh, the friend and adviser of his father. The style of these buildings may be judged of from the woodcut (No. 299, page 532), representing the pavilion of sixteen pillars in front of this tomb (I in Woodcut No. 298). They are of the usual simple outline of the style—a tall, square base; the shafts square, and with no ornament except a countersinking on the angles, and crowned with a moderately projecting bracket-capital. The building is roofed with nine small domes, insignificant in themselves, but both internally and externally forming as pleasing a mode of roofing as ever was applied to such a small detached building of this class. The mosque (D) was completed in A.D. 1451, and Mahmúd Begurra added afterwards a tomb for himself (B) and one for his wife Rajbaie (C). With their accompanying palaces and tombs these make up one of the most important groups in the neighbourhood. The whole are constructed without a single arch; all the pillars have the usual bracket capitals of the Hindus, and all the domes are on the horizontal principle. In the large tomb an attempt has been made to get a larger dome than the usual octagonal arrangement would admit of, but not quite successfully. The octagon does not accord with the substructure, and either wider spaces ought to have been introduced or a polygon of a greater number of sides employed. The mosque is the perfection of elegant simplicity, and is an improvement on the plan of the Jumma Musjid. There are five domes in a line, as there, but they are placed nearer to one another, and though of greater diameter the width of the whole is less, and they are only two ranges in depth. Except the{531}

298. Plan of Tombs and Mosque at Sirkej. (From a Sketch by T. C. Hope, Esq.) Scale 100 Ft. to 1 in.

REFERENCES.
A. Tomb of Gunj Buksh. B. Tomb of Mahmúd Begurra and his Sons. C. Tomb of Beebee Rájbaie, his Queen. D. The Mosque. E. Covered Gateway. F. Covered Hall overlooking the Tank. G. Well and Fountain. H. Portico leading to Terrace and Steps down to the Tank. I. Pavilion. J. Portions of the Steps surrounding the Tank.

{532}

Mootee Musjid at Agra, to be described hereafter, there is no mosque in India more remarkable for simple elegance than this.

299. Pavilion in front of Tomb at Sirkej.

300. Mosque at Mooháfiz Khan. Scale 25 ft. to 1 in.

Besides these larger mosques there are several smaller ones of great beauty, of which two—those of Mooháfiz Khan and the Rani Sîpri—are pre-eminent. The elevation of the first is by no means happy, but its details are exquisite, and it retains its minarets, which is too seldom the case. As will be seen from the woodcut, as well as from those of the Jumma and Queen’s Mosques (Nos. 294, 296), the lower part of the minarets is of pure Hindu architecture; all the bases at Ahmedabad are neither more nor less than the perpendicular parts of the basement of Hindu or Jaina temples elongated. Every form and every detail may be found at Chandravati or Abu, except in one particular—on the angles of {533}all Hindu temples are niches containing images. This the Moslem could not tolerate, so he filled them with tracery. We can follow the progress of the development of this form, from the first rude attempt in the Jumma Musjid, through all its stages to the exquisite patterns of the Queen’s Mosque at Mirzapore. After a century’s experience they produced forms which as architectural ornaments will, in their own class, stand comparison with any employed in any age or in any part of the world; and in doing this they invented a class of window-tracery in which they were also unrivalled. The specimen below (Woodcut No. 301), from a window in a desecrated mosque in the palace (the Bhudder) will convey an idea of its elaborateness and grace. It would be difficult to excel the skill with which the vegetable forms are conventionalised just to the extent required for the purpose. The equal spacing also of the subject by the three ordinary trees and four palms, takes it out of the category of direct imitation of nature, and renders it sufficiently structural for its situation; but perhaps the greatest skill is shown in the even manner in which the pattern is spread over the whole surface. There are some exquisite specimens of tracery in precious marbles at Agra and Delhi, but none quite equal to this.

301. Window in Bhudder at Ahmedabad. (From a Photograph by Colonel Biggs.)

Above the roof of the mosques the minarets are always round towers slightly tapering, as in the mosque of Mooháfiz Khan (Woodcut No. 300), relieved by galleries displaying great richness in the{534} brackets which support them as well as in the balustrades which protect them. The tower always terminates in a conical top relieved by various disks. They are, so far as I know, the only minarets belonging to mosques which surpass those of Cairo in beauty of outline or richness of detail, excepting those of the Rani Sîpri mosque, which are still more beautiful. Indeed, that mosque is the most exquisite gem at Ahmedabad, both in plan and detail. It is without arches, and every part is such as only a Hindu queen could order, and only Hindu artists could carve.[515]

Tombs.

302. Tomb of Meer Abu Touráb. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

Knowing the style, it would not be difficult to predicate the form of the tombs. The simplest would be that of Abu Touráb; an octagonal dome supported on twelve pillars, and this extended on every side, but always remaining a square, and the entrances being in the centre of the faces. The difference between this and the Jaina arrangement is that the latter is diagonal (Woodcut No. 119), while these are square. The superiority of the Hindu mode is apparent at a glance. Not, it is true, in so small an arrangement as that last quoted, but in the tombs at Sirkej (Woodcut No. 298), the effect is so monotonous as almost to become unpleasing. With the Jains this never is the case, however numerous the pillars may be.

303. Plan and Elevation of Tomb of Syad Osmán. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

Besides the monotony of the square plan, it was felt at Sirkej—as already pointed out—that the octagonal dome fitted awkwardly on to its supports. This was remedied, to a great extent, in the tomb of Syad Osmán, built in A.D. 460 by Mahmúd Begurra. In this instance{535} the base of the dome is a dodecagon, and a very considerable amount of variety is obtained by grouping the pillars in twos and fours, and by the different spacing. In elevation the dome looks heavy for the substructure, but not so in perspective; and when the screens were added to inclose the central square, it was altogether the most successful sepulchral design carried out in the pillared style at Ahmedabad.

Towards the end of their career, the architects of Ahmedabad evinced a strong tendency to revert to the arched forms generally used by their brethren in other countries. Mahmúd Begurra built himself a tomb near Kaira, which is wholly in the arched style, and remains one of the most splendid sepulchres in India.[516] He also erected at Butwa, near Ahmedabad, a tomb over the grave of a saint, which is in every respect in the same style. So little, however, were the builders accustomed to arched forms, that, though the plan is judiciously disposed by placing smaller arches outside the larger, so as to abut them, still all those of the outer range have fallen down, and the whole is very much crippled, while the tomb without arches, that stands within a few yards of it, remains entire. The scale of the two, however (Plan No. 305), reveals the secret of the preference accorded to the arch as a constructive expedient. The larger piers, the wider spacing, the whole dimensions, were on a grander scale than could be attained with beams only, as the Hindus used them. As the Greeks and Romans employed these features, any dimensions that were feasible with arches could be attained by pillars; but the Hindus worked to a smaller modulus, and do not seem to have known how to increase it. It must, however, be remarked that they generally used pillars only in courts, where there was nothing to compare them with but the spectator’s own height; and there the forms employed by them were large enough. It was only when the Moslems came to use them externally, and in conjunction with arches and other larger features, that their diminutive scale became apparent.

It is perhaps the evidence of a declining age to find size becoming the principal aim. But it is certainly one great and important ingredient in architectural design, and so thought the later architects of Ahmedabad. In their later mosques and buildings they attained greater dimensions, but it was at the expense of all that renders their earlier style so beautiful and so interesting.[517]{536}

304. Tomb of Kutub-ul-Alum, Butwa. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

305. Plans of Tombs of Kutub-ul-Alum and his Son, Butwa. Scale about 50 ft. to 1 in.

Besides the buildings of the classes above enumerated, there are several smaller objects of art at Ahmedabad which are of extraordinary beauty. Among these are several bowlees, or deep wells, with broad flights of steps leading down to them, and ornamented with pillars and galleries to as great an extent as some of the largest buildings above ground. It requires a personal experience of the grateful coolness of a subterranean apartment in a hot climate to appreciate such a class of buildings, and in the rainy West we hardly know how valuable water may become.

Another object of architectural beauty is found in the inflow and {537}outflow sluices of the great tanks which abound everywhere around the city. Nowhere did the inhabitants of Ahmedabad show how essentially they were an architectural people, as in these utilitarian works. It was a necessity of their nature that every object should be made ornamental, and their success was as great in these as in their mosques or palaces.

Buildings in the Provinces.

In addition to the numerous edifices that adorn the capital, there are, as hinted above, several in the provincial capitals that are well worthy of notice. Among these the Jumma Musjid at Cambay is perhaps the most splendid. It was erected in A.D. 1325, in the time of Mohammed Shah Gori, and is only inferior to that of the capital in size. It measures over all 200 ft. by 210 ft., and its internal court 120 ft. by 135 ft. Except being somewhat smaller in scale, its plan and arrangements are almost identical with those of the Altumsh Mosque (Woodcut No. 283) at Ajmir: but, when it is looked into, it would be difficult to conceive two buildings more essentially different than these two are. The screen of arches at Cambay, only three in number, are plain even to baldness, and low, in order to fit the dimensions of the Jaina pillars of the interior. These latter are all borrowed from desecrated temples, and in this instance certainly rearranged without much attention to congruity or architectural effect. Still the effect is picturesque, and the parts being employed for the purposes for which they were designed, there is no offensive incongruity anywhere.

One of the most remarkable features in this mosque is the tomb, which its founder, Imrar ben Ahmed Kajerani erected for himself. It is wholly composed of Hindu remains, and is two storeys in height, and was crowned with a dome 28 ft. in diameter. The parts, however—borrowed, apparently, from different buildings—were so badly fitted together that, after standing some three centuries, it fell in, and has since remained a ruin, singularly picturesque in form and exquisite in detail, but a monument of the folly of employing building materials for any purpose but that for which they were designed.[518]

There is another mosque at Baroach, not unlike this one in design but smaller, being only 135 ft. over all north and south, and it has—now, at least—no courtyard; but some of its details, borrowed from Hindu temples, are very beautiful.

There are also two very beautiful mosques at Dolka, a city twenty-two miles south-west from Ahmedabad, almost identical in size and{538} plan, being each of them squares of about 150 ft., and the mosque-front covered with five domes and the screen-wall with three arches each.[519]

306. Plan of Tomb of Mahmúd Begurra, near Kaira. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

307. Tomb of Mahmúd Begurra, near Kaira. (From a Photograph.)

The most beautiful, however, of these provincial examples is the tomb at Mahmúdabad, of its class one of the most beautiful in India (Woodcut No. 306). It was erected by the same Mahmúd Begurra, A.D. 1484, who erected the tomb of Kutub-ul-Alum at Butwa, described above (Woodcut No. 304), and is said to have been designed by the same architect. This is, however, a far more successful example, and though small—it is only 94 ft. square, exclusive of the porch—there is a sim{539}plicity about its plan, a solidity and balance of parts in the design, which is not always found in these tombs, and has rarely, if ever, been surpassed in any tomb in India. The details, too, are all elegant and appropriate, so that it only wants somewhat increased dimensions to rank among the very first of its class. Its constructive arrangements, too, are so perfect that no alterations in them would be required, if the scale had been very much increased.

The tomb itself is surrounded by a screen of perforated stonework, of the very finest tracery, and with its double verandah aids in giving the sepulchral chamber that seclusion and repose so indispensable in a mausoleum.[520]{540}

## CHAPTER VI.
MALWA.

CONTENTS.

The Great Mosque at Mandu.

CHRONOLOGY.

Sultan Dilawar Ghori | A.D. 1401
Sultan Hoshang Ghori | 1405
Ghazni Khan | 1432
Mahmúd Khan, cotemp. Rana Khumbo of Chittore | 1435
Sultan Ghias ud-dîn | 1469
Sultan Mahmúd II | 1512
Malwa incorporated with Gujerat | 1534
—— annexed by Akbar | 1568

The Ghori dynasty of Mandu attained independence about the same time as the Sharkis of Jaunpore—Sultan Dilawar, who governed the province from A.D. 1387, having assumed the title of Shah in A.D. 1401. It is, however, to his successor Hoshang, that Mandu owes its greatness and all the finest of its buildings. The state continued to prosper as one of the independent Moslem principalities till A.D. 1534, when it was incorporated with Gujerat, and was finally annexed to Akbar’s dominion in A.D. 1568.

The original capital of the state was Dhar, an old Hindu city, twenty miles northward of Mandu, to which the seat of government was transferred after it became independent. Though an old and venerated city of the Hindus, Dhar contains no evidence of its former greatness, except two mosques erected wholly of Jaina remains. The principal of these, the Jumma Musjid, has a courtyard measuring 102 ft. north and south, by 131 ft. in the other direction. The mosque itself is 119 ft. by 40 ft. 6 in., and its roof is supported by sixty-four pillars of Jaina architecture, 12 ft. 6 in. in height, and all of them more or less richly carved, and the three domes that adorn it are also of purely Hindu form. The court is surrounded by an arcade containing forty-four columns, 10 ft. in height, but equally rich in carving. There is here no screen of arches, as at the Kutub or at Ajmir. Internally nothing is visible but Hindu pillars, and, except for their disposition and the prayer-niches that adorn the western wall, it might be taken for a Hindu building. In this instance, however, there seems no doubt that there is nothing in situ. The pillars have been brought from desecrated temples in the town, and{541} arranged here by the Mahomedans as we now find them, probably before the transference of the capital to Mandu.

The other mosque is similar to this one, and only slightly smaller. It has long, however, ceased to be used as a place of prayer, and is sadly out of repair. It is called the Lât Musjid, from an iron pillar now lying half-buried in front of its gateway. This is generally supposed to have been a pillar of victory, like that at the Kutub; but this can hardly be the case. If it were intended for an ornamental purpose, it would have been either round or octagonal, and had some ornamental form. As it is, it is only a square bar of iron, some 20 ft. or 25 ft. in height, and 9 in. section, without any ornamental form whatever. My impression is, that it was used for some useful constructive purpose, like those which supported the false roof in the Pagoda at Kanaruc (ante, page 428). There are some holes through it, which tend further to make this view of its origin probable. But, be this as it may, it is another curious proof of the employment of large masses of wrought-iron by the Hindus at a time when they were supposed to be incapable of any such mechanical exertion. Its date is probably that of the pillars of the mosques where it is found, and from their style they probably belong to the 10th or 11th centuries.

The site on which the city of Mandu is placed is one of the noblest occupied by any capital in India. It is an extensive plateau, detached from the mainland of Malwa by a deep ravine about 300 to 400 yards across, where narrowest, and nowhere less than 200 ft. in depth. This is crossed by a noble causeway, defended by three gateways, and flanked by tombs on either hand. The plateau is surrounded by walls erected on the brink of the cliff—it is said 28 miles in extent. This, however, conveys a very erroneous idea of the size of the place, unless qualified by the information that the walls follow the sinuosities of the ravines wherever they occur, and many of these cut into the hill a mile or two, and are only half a mile across. The plateau may be four or five miles east and west, and three miles north and south, most pleasingly diversified in surface, abounding in water, and fertile in the highest degree, as is too plainly evidenced by the rank vegetation, which is tearing the buildings of the city to pieces or obscuring them so that they can hardly be seen.

The finest building in the city is the Jumma Musjid, commenced and nearly completed by Hoshang, the second king, who reigned from A.D. 1405 to A.D. 1432, which, though not very large, is so simple and grand in outline and details, that it ranks high among the monuments of its class. Its dimensions are externally 290 ft. by 275 ft., exclusive of the porch.

Internally, the courtyard is almost an exact square of 162 ft., and{542} would be quite so, were it not that two of the piers on the east and west faces are doubled. In other respects the four sides of the court are exactly similar, each being ornamented by eleven great arches of precisely the same dimensions and height, supported by piers or pillars, each of one single block of red sandstone. The only variety attempted is, that the east side has two arcades in depth, the north and south three: while the west side, or that facing Mecca, has five, besides being ornamented by three great domes, each 42 ft. in diameter.

As will be seen on the plan (Woodcut No. 308), these large domes are supported each by twelve pillars. The pillars are all equally spaced, the architect having omitted, for the sake of uniformity, to widen the central avenues on the intersection of which the domes stand. It follows from this that the four sides of the octagon supporting the dome, which are parallel to the sides of the court, are shorter than the four diagonal sides. Internally, this produces a very awkward appearance; but it could not have been avoided except by running into another difficulty—that of having oblong spaces at the intersections of the wider aisles with the narrower, to which the smaller domes must have been fitted. Perhaps, on the whole, the architect took the less inconvenient course of the two.

308. Plan of Mosque at Mandu. No scale.

The interior of the court is represented in Woodcut No. 309, and for simple grandeur and expression of power it may, perhaps, be taken as one of the very best specimens now to be found in India. It is, however, fast falling to decay, and a few years more may deprive it of most of that beauty which so impressed me when I visited it in 1839.

The tomb of the founder, which stands behind the mosque, though not remarkable for size, is a very grand specimen of the last resting-{543}place of a stern old Pathan king. Both internally and externally it is reveted with white marble, artistically, but not constructively, applied, and consequently in many places peeling off. The light is only admitted by the doorway and two small windows, so that the interior is gloomy, but not more so than seems suitable to its destination.

309. Courtyard of Great Mosque at Mandu. (From a Sketch by the Author.)

On one side of the mosque is a splendid Dharmsala, or hall, 230 ft. long, supported by three ranges of pillars, twenty-eight in each row. These are either borrowed from a Hindu edifice, or formed by some native architect from stones originally Hindu, and on the north side is a porch, which is avowedly only a re-erection of the pillars of a Jaina dome.

The palaces of Mandu are, however, perhaps even more remarkable than its mosques. Of these the principal is called Jehaj Mehal, from its being situated between two great tanks—almost literally in the water, like a “ship.” It is so covered with vegetation that it is almost impossible to sketch or photograph it,[521] but its mass and picturesque outline make it one of the most remarkable edifices of its date; very unlike the refined elegance afterwards introduced by the Moguls, but well worthy of being the residence of an independent Pathan chief of a warrior state.

{544}

The principal apartment is a vaulted hall, some 24 ft. wide by twice that length, and 24 ft. in height, flanked by buttresses massive enough to support a vault four times its section. Across the end of the hall is a range of apartments three storeys in height, and the upper ones adorned with rude, bold, balconied windows. Beyond this is a long range of vaulted halls, standing in the water, which were apparently the living apartments of the palace. Like the rest of the palace they are bold, and massive to a degree seldom found in Indian edifices, and produce a corresponding effect.

On the brink of the precipice overlooking the valley of the Nerbudda is another palace, called that of Baz Bahadur, of a lighter and more elegant character, but even more ruined than the northern palace, and scattered over the whole plateau are ruins of tombs and buildings of every class and so varied as almost to defy description. In their solitude, in a vast uninhabited jungle, they convey as vivid an impression of the ephemeral splendour of these Mahomedan dynasties as anything in India, and, if illustrated, would alone suffice to prove how wonderfully their builders had grasped the true elements of architectural design.{545}

## CHAPTER VII.
BENGAL.

CONTENTS.

Kudam ul Roussoul Mosque, Gaur—Adinah Mosque, Maldah.

Capital—Gaur.

It is not very easy to understand why the architects of Malwa should have adopted a style so essentially arcuate as that which we find in the capital, while their brethren, on either hand, at Jaunpore and Ahmedabad, clung so fondly to a trabeate form wherever they had an opportunity of employing it. The Mandu architects had the same initiation to the Hindu forms in the mosques at Dhar; and there must have been innumerable Jaina temples to furnish materials to a far greater extent than we find them utilised, but we neither find them borrowing nor imitating, but adhering steadily to the pointed-arch style, which is the essential characteristic of their art in foreign countries. It is easy to understand, on the other hand, why in Bengal the trabeate style never was in vogue. The country is practically without stone, or any suitable material for forming either pillars or beams. Having nothing but brick, it was almost of necessity that they employed arches everywhere, and in every building that had any pretensions to permanency. The Bengal style being, however, the only one wholly of brick in India Proper, has a local individuality of its own, which is curious and interesting, though, from the nature of the material, deficient in many of the higher qualities of art which characterise the buildings constructed with larger and better materials. Besides elaborating a pointed-arched brick style of their own, the Bengalis introduced a new form of roof, which has had a most important influence on both the Mahomedan and Hindu styles in more modern times. As already mentioned in describing the chuttrie at Alwar (ante, p. 474), the Bengalis, taking advantage of the elasticity of the bambu, universally employ in their dwellings a curvilinear form of roof, which has become so familiar to their eyes, that they consider it beautiful (Woodcut No. 310). It is so in fact when bambu and thatch are the materials employed, but when translated into stone or brick architecture, its taste is more questionable. There{546} is, however, so much that is conventional in architecture, and beauty depends to such an extent on association, that strangers are hardly fair judges in a case of this sort. Be this as it may, certain it is, at all events, that after being elaborated into a feature of permanent architecture in Bengal, this curvilinear form found its way in the 17th century to Delhi, and in the 18th to Lahore, and all the intermediate buildings from, say A.D. 1650, betray its presence to a greater or less extent.

310. Modern Curved Form of Roof.

It is a curious illustration, however, of how much there is in architecture that is conventional and how far familiarity may render that beautiful which is not so abstractedly, that while to the European eye this form always remains unpleasing, to the native eye—Hindu or Mahomedan—it is the most elegant of modern inventions.[522]

Even irrespective, however, of its local peculiarities, the architecture of Gaur, the Mahomedan capital of Bengal, deserves attention for its extent and the immense variety of detail which it displays. Bengal, apparently because it was so distant from the capital, was erected into a separate kingdom almost simultaneously with Delhi itself. Mahommad Bakhtiar Khilji, governor of Berar under Kutub ud-dîn, became first king of the dynasty in A.D. 1203, and was succeeded by a long line of forty-eight kings, till the state was absorbed into Akbar’s vast kingdom in A.D. 1573, under Daud Khan ben Suleiman. Though none of these kings did anything that entitles them to a place in general history, they possessed one of the richest portions of India, and employed their wealth in adorning their capital with buildings, which, when in a state of repair, must have been gorgeous, even if not always in the best taste. The climate of Bengal is, however, singularly inimical to the preservation of architectural remains. If the roots of a tree of the fig kind once find a resting-place in any crevice of a building, its destruction is inevitable; and even without this, the luxuriant growth of the jungle hides the building so completely, that it is sometimes difficult to discover it—always to explore it. Add to this that Gaur is singularly well suited to facilitate the removal of materials by water-carriage. During the summer inundation, boats can float up to any of the ruins, and after embarking{547} stones or bricks, drop down the stream to any new capital that may be rising. It thus happens that Moorshedabad, Hoogly, and even Calcutta, are rich in spoils of the old Pathan capital of Bengal, while it has itself become only a mass of picturesque but almost indistinguishable ruins.

The city of Gaur was a famous capital of the Hindus long before it was taken possession of by the Mahomedans. The Sên and Bellala dynasties of Bengal seem to have resided here, and no doubt adorned it with temples and edifices worthy of their fame and wealth. These, however, were probably principally in brick, though adorned with pillars and details in what used to be called black marble, but seems to be an indurated potstone of very fine grain, and which takes a beautiful polish. Many fragments of Hindu art in this material are found among the ruins; and if carefully examined might enable us to restore the style. Its interest, however, principally lies in the influence it had on the Mahomedan style that succeeded it. It is neither like that of Delhi, nor Jaunpore, nor any other style, but one purely local, and not without considerable merit in itself; its principal characteristic being heavy short pillars of stone supporting pointed arches and vaults, in brick—whereas at Jaunpore, for instance, light pillars carried horizontal architraves and flat ceilings.

The general character of the style will be seen in the example from a mosque called the Kudam ul Roussoul at Gaur, and is by no means devoid of architectural merit (Woodcut No. 311). The solidity of the supports go far to redeem the inherent weakness of brick architecture, and by giving the arches a firm base to start from, prevents the smallness of their parts from injuring the general effect. It also presents, though in a very subdued form, the curvilinear form of the roof, which is so characteristic of the style.

In Gaur itself there are two very handsome mosques—the Golden and the Barah Durwaza, or twelve-doored. Both their façades are in stone, and covered with foliaged patterns in low-relief, borrowed evidently from the terra-cotta ornaments which were more frequently employed, and continued a favourite mode of adorning façades down to the time of the erection of the Kantonuggur temple illustrated above (Woodcut No. 263). In the interior their pillars have generally been removed, and the vaults consequently fallen in, so that it is not easy to judge of their effect, even if the jungle would admit of the whole area being grasped at once. Their general disposition may be judged of, however, by the plan on page 549 (Woodcut No. 312) of the Adinah mosque at Maldah, which formed at the time it was erected the northern suburb of the capital. From inscriptions upon it, it appears that this mosque was erected by Sikander Shah, one of the most illustrious of his race (A.D. 1358-1367), with the intention of being himself buried within its precincts, or in its immediate neigh{548}bourhood. Its dimensions are considerable, being nearly 500 ft. north and south, and nearly 300 ft. east and west. In the centre it contains a courtyard, surrounded on all sides by a thick wall of brick, divided by eighty-eight similar arched openings, only one of which, that in the centre of the west side facing Mecca, is wider and more dignified than the rest. The roof in like manner is supported by 266 pillars of black hornblende, similar in design to those represented in Woodcut No. 311. They are bold and pleasing in design, but it must be confessed wanting in variety. These with the walls support no less than 385 domes, all similar in design and construction. The only variation that is made is where a platform, called the Padshah ka Takht, or King’s Throne, divides a part of the building into two storeys.[523]

311. Kudam ul Roussoul Mosque, Gaur. (From a Photograph.)

A design, such as that of the Adinah mosque, would be appropriate{549}

312. Plan of Adinah Mosque, Maldah. Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

for a caravanserai; but in an edifice where expression and beauty were absolutely required it is far too monotonous. The same defect runs through the whole group; and though their size and elegance of details, joined with the picturesque state of richly foliaged ruin in which they are now found, make them charming subjects for the pencil, they possess all the defects of design we remarked in the great halls of a thousand columns in the south of this country.[524] It seems, indeed, almost as if here we had again got among the Tamil race,{550} and that their peculiarities were reappearing on the surface, though dressed in the garb of a foreign race.

One of the most interesting of the antiquities of the place is a minar, standing in the fort (Woodcut No. 313). For two-thirds of the height it is a polygon of twelve sides; above that circular, till it attains the height of 84 ft. The door is at some distance from the ground, and altogether it looks more like an Irish round-tower than any other example known, though it is most improbable that there should be any connexion between the two forms. It is evidently a pillar of victory—a Jaya Stambha—such as the Kutub Minar at Delhi, and those at Coel, Dowlutabad, and elsewhere. There is, or was, an inscription on this monument which ascribed its erection to Feroze Shah. If this is so, it must be the king of that province who reigned in Gaur A.H. 702-715, or A.D. 1302-1315,[525] and the character of the architecture fully bears out this adscription.[526] The native tradition is, that a saint, Peer Asa, lived, like Simon Stylites, on its summit!

313. Minar at Gaur. (From a Photograph by J. H. Ravenshaw, B.C.S.)

Besides these, there are several of the gateways of Gaur which are of considerable magnificence. The finest is that called Dhakhal, which, though of brick, and adorned only with terra-cotta ornaments, is as grand an object of its class as is to be found anywhere. The gate of the citadel, and the southern gate of the city, are very noble examples of what can be done with bricks, and bricks only. It is not, however, in the dimensions of its buildings or the beauty of their{551} details that the glory of Gaur resides; it is in the wonderful mass of ruins stretching along what was once the high bank of the Ganges, for nearly twenty miles, from Maldah to Maddapore—mosques still in use, mixed with mounds covering ruins—tombs, temples, tanks and towers, scattered without order over an immense distance, and half buried in a luxuriance of vegetation which only this part of India can exhibit. What looks poor, and may be in indifferent taste, drawn on paper and reduced to scale, may give an idea of splendour in decay when seen as it is, and in this respect there are none of the ancient capitals of India which produce a more striking, and at the same time a more profoundly melancholy, impression than these ruins of the old Pathan capital of Bengal.{552}

## CHAPTER VIII.
KALBURGAH.

CONTENTS.

The Mosque at Kalburgah.

CHRONOLOGY.

Ala ud-dîn Bahmani, a servant in Mahamud Tugluck’s court | A.D. 1347
Muhammad Shah. Ghazi | 1358
Mujahid Shah | 1375
Mahmúd Shah | 1378
Feroze Shah married daughter of Vijayanagar raja | 1397
Ahmad Shah, capital Bidar | 1422
Nizam Shah | 1461
Kullam Ullah, last of Bahmani dynasty | 1525
Kasin Berid, founder of Berid Shahi dynasty | 1492
Ala Rena Shah assumes royalty | 1549
Amir Berid Shah, last of his race | 1609

The campaigns of Ala ud-dîn and of Tugluck Shah in the beginning of the 14th century extended the fame and fear of the Moslem power over the whole peninsula of India, as far as Cape Comorin and the Straits of Manaar. It was almost impossible, however, that a state in the semi-barbarous condition of the Pathans of that day could so organise a government as to rule so extensive and varied an empire from one central point, and that as remote as Delhi. Tugluck Shah felt this, and proposed to establish the capital at Dowlutabad. If he had been able to accomplish this, the whole of the south might have been permanently conquered. As it was, the Bellala dynasty of Hullabîd was destroyed in A.D. 1311,[527] and that of Worangul crippled but not finally conquered till some time afterwards,[528] while the rising power of Vijayanagar formed a barrier which shielded the southern states—the Chera, Chola, Pandya—against Mahomedan encroachment for some centuries after that time; and but for the establishment of Mahomedan kingdoms independent of the central power at Delhi, the Dekhan might have been lost to the Moslems, and the Hindus held their own for a long time, perhaps for ever, to the south of the Vindhya range.

The first of those dynasties that successfully established its independence was that called the Bahmani, from its founder, Hasan Ganju, being the servant of a Brahman in Mahamud Tugluck’s court, and owing his rise to his master, he adopted his name as a title in gratitude. He established himself at Kalburgah, an ancient{553} Hindu city of the Dekhan, and with his immediate successors not only held in check the Hindu sovereigns of Worangul and Vijayanagar, but actually forced them to pay him tribute. This prosperous state of affairs lasted for nearly a century, when Ahmad Shah I. (A.D. 1422-1425), for some reason not explained, transferred the seat of power to Bidar. They lingered on for another century or more, latterly known as the Berid Shahis, till they were absorbed in the great Mogul empire in A.D. 1609. Long before that, however, their place in the Dekhan had been taken by the Bijapur Adil Shahis, who established themselves there A.D. 1489.

During the short supremacy of Kalburgah as capital of the Dekhan (A.D. 1347-1435), it was adorned with several important buildings, among which was a mosque, one of the most remarkable of its class in India (Woodcuts Nos. 314, 315). Its dimensions are considerable, though not excessive: it measures 216 ft. east and west, and 176 ft. north and south, and consequently covers 38,016 sq. ft. Its great peculiarity, however, is that, alone of all the great mosques in India, the whole of the area is covered over. Comparing it, for instance, with the mosque at Mandu, which is the one in other respects most like it, it will be observed that the greater part of its area is occupied by a courtyard surrounded by arcades. At Kalburgah there is no court, the whole is roofed over, and the light is admitted through the side walls, which are pierced with great arches for this purpose on all sides except the west (Woodcut No. 316).

Having only one example of the class, it is not easy to form an opinion which of the two systems of building is the better. There is a repose and a solemnity which is singularly suited to a place of prayer, in a courtyard enclosed by cloisters on all sides, and only pierced by two or three doors; but, on the other hand, the heat and glare arising from reflection of the sun’s rays in these open courts is sometimes most painful in such a climate as India, and nowhere, so far as I know, was it ever even attempted to modify this by awnings. On the Kalburgah plan, on the contrary, the solid roof covering the whole space afforded protection from the sun’s rays to all worshippers, and every aisle being open at one or both ends, prevented anything like gloom, and admitted of far freer ventilation than was attainable in the enclosed courts, while the requisite privacy could easily have been obtained by a low enclosing wall at some distance from the mosque itself. On the whole, my impression is that the Kalburgah plan is the preferable one of the two, both for convenience and for architectural effect, so much so indeed, that it is very difficult to understand why, when once tried, it was never afterwards repeated. Probably the cause of its being abandoned was the difficulty of draining so extensive a flat roof during the rains. Any settlement or any crack must have been fatal; yet this mosque stands in seemingly good{554} repair, after four centuries of comparative neglect. Whichever way the question is decided, it must be admitted that this is one of the finest of the old Pathan mosques of India, at least among those which are built wholly of original materials—and in the arcuate style—of Mahomedan art. Those at Delhi and Ajmir are more interesting of course, but it is from adventitious circumstances. This owes its greatness only to its own original merits of design.[529]

314. Mosque at Kalburgah. (From a Plan by the Hon. Sir Arthur Gordon.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

{555}

315. Half elevation half section of the Mosque at Kalburgah. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

316. View of the Mosque at Kalburgah. (From a Photograph.)

Besides the mosque, there is in Kalburgah a bazaar, 570 ft. long by 60 ft. wide, over all, adorned by a range of sixty-one arches on either hand, supported by pillars of a quasi-Hindu character, and with a block of buildings of a very ornamental character at either end. I am not aware of anything of its class more striking in any part of India. The arcades that most resemble this are those that line the{556} street called the Street of the Pilgrims, at Vijayanagar, which may be contemporary with this bazaar.[530]

There are other buildings, especially one gigantic archway, in the city of Kalburgah, the use of which is not apparent, and some very grand old tombs, with sloping walls; but we must wait for further information before they can be utilised in a history of Indian architecture.

After the seat of government was removed to Bidar by Ahmad Shah, A.D. 1422-1435, the new capital was adorned by edifices worthy of the greatness of the dynasty, but now all apparently ruined. Among these the most magnificent appears to be the madrissa erected by Mahomet Gaun, the faithful but unfortunate minister of the tyrant Mahmúd II. It appears to have been finished two years before his death, in A.D. 1481, and in Ferishta’s time was one of the most complete and flourishing establishments of its class in India.[531] Unfortunately, when the place was besieged by Aurungzebe, a quantity of gunpowder was stored in its vaults, and exploded, either accidentally or by design, so as to ruin one wing. Since then the building has been disused, but so far as can be judged from such imperfect information as is available, it must have been one of the most splendid buildings of its day.[532] The tombs too of the Berid Shahi dynasty, which reigned in Bidar from A.D. 1492-1609, are of considerable splendour, and rival those of Golcondah in extent. Bidar, however, has not yet been visited by anyone who has had the power or opportunity of drawing or describing its monuments in such a manner as to enable another to utilise them for historical purposes, and till this is done, a knowledge of them must remain among the many desiderata in Indian art.{557}

## CHAPTER IX.
BIJAPUR.

CONTENTS.

The Jumma Musjid—Tombs of Ibrahim and Mahmúd—The Audience Hall—Tomb of Nawab Amir Khan, near Tatta.

CHRONOLOGY.

Yusaf Khan Adil Shah | A.D. 1501
Ismail Adil Shah | 1511
Mullu Adil Shah | 1534
Ibrahim Adil Shah I. | 1535
Ali Adil Shah | 1557
Ibrahim Adil Shah II. | 1579
Muhammad | 1626
Ali Adil Shah II. | 1660

If the materials existed for the purpose, it would be extremely interesting, from a historical point of view, to trace the various styles that grew out of each other as the later dynasties of the Dekhan succeeded one another and strove to surpass their predecessors in architectural magnificence in their successive capitals. With the exception, however, of Bijapur, none of the Dekhani cities produced any edifices that, taken by themselves irrespective of their surroundings and historical importance, seem to be of any very great value in an artistic sense.

Burhampur, which was the capital of the Faruki dynasty of Kandeish, from A.D. 1370-1596, does possess some buildings remarkable for their extent and picturesque in their decay, but of very little artistic value, and many of them—especially the later ones—in very questionable taste. Ahmednugger, the capital of the Nizam Shahi dynasty, A.D. 1490-1607, is singularly deficient in architectural grandeur, considering how long it was the capital of an important dynasty; while if Golcondah, the chosen seat of the Kutub Shahi dynasty, A.D. 1512-1672, has any buildings that are remarkable, all that can be said is that they have not yet been drawn or described. The tombs of the kings of this dynasty, and of their nobles and families, do form as extensive and as picturesque a group as is to be found anywhere; but individually they are in singularly bad taste. Their bases are poor and weak, their domes tall and exaggerated, showing all the faults of the age in which they were executed, but still not unworthy of a place in history if the materials existed for illustrating them properly.

As mentioned above, the Bahmani dynasty of Kalburgah main{558}tained the struggle against the Hindu principalities of the south for nearly a century and a half, with very little assistance from either the central power at Delhi or their cognate states in the Dekhan. Before the end of the 15th century, however, they began to feel that decay inherent in all Eastern dynasties; and the Hindus might have recovered their original possessions, up to the Vindhya at least, but for the appearance of a new and more vigorous competitor in the field in the person of Yusaf Khan, a son of Amurath II. of Anatolia. He was thus a Turk of pure blood, and, as it happens, born in Constantinople, though his mother was forced to fly thence while he was still an infant. After a varied career he was purchased for the body-guard at Bidar, and soon raised himself to such pre-eminence that on the defeat of Dustur Dinar, in 1501, he was enabled to proclaim his independence and establish himself as the founder of the Adil Shahi dynasty of Bijapur.

For the first sixty or seventy years after their accession, the struggle for existence was too severe to admit of the Adil Shahis devoting much attention to architecture. The real building epoch of the city commences with Ali, A.D. 1557, and all the important buildings are crowded into the 100 years which elapsed between his accession and the wars with Aurungzebe, which ended in the final destruction of the dynasty.

During that period, however, their capital was adorned with a series of buildings as remarkable as those of any of the Mahomedan capitals of India, hardly excepting even Agra and Delhi, and showing a wonderful originality of design not surpassed by those of such capitals as Jaunpore or Ahmedabad, though differing from them in a most marked degree.

It is not easy now to determine how far this originality arose from the European descent of the Adil Shahis and their avowed hatred of everything that belonged to the Hindus, or whether it arose from any local circumstances, the value of which we can now hardly appreciate. My impression is, that the former is the true cause, and that the largeness and grandeur of the Bijapur style is owing to its quasi-Western origin, and to reminiscences of the great works of the Roman and Byzantine architects.

Like most Mahomedan dynasties, the Adil Shahis commenced their architectural career by building a mosque and madrissa in the fort at Bijapur out of Hindu remains. How far the pillars used there by them are in situ, or torn from other buildings, we are not informed. From photographs, it would appear that considerable portions of them are used at least for the purposes for which they were intended; but this is not incompatible with the idea that they were removed from their original positions and readapted to their present purposes. Be this as it may, as soon as the dynasty had{559} leisure to think really about the matter, they abandoned entirely all tendency to copy Hindu forms or Hindu details, but set to work to carry out a pointed-arched, or domical style of their own, and did it with singular success.[533]

The Jumma Musjid, which is one of the earlier regular buildings of the city, was commenced by Ali Adil Shah (A.D. 1557-1579), and, though continued by his successors on the same plan, was never completely finished, the fourth side of the courtyard with its great gateway not having been even commenced when the dynasty was overthrown. Even as it is, it is one of the finest mosques in India.

317. Plan of Jumma Musjid, Bijapur. (From a Drawing by A. Cumming, C.E.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

As will be seen from the plan (Woodcut No. 317), it would have{560} been, if completed, a rectangle of 331 ft. by 257 ft. The mosque itself is perfect, and measures 257 ft. by 145 ft., and consequently covers about 37,000 sq. ft. It consequently is in itself only a very little less than the mosque at Kalburgah; but this is irrespective of the wings, which extend 186 ft. beyond, so that if complete it would have covered about 50,000 sq. ft. to 55,000 sq. ft., or about the usual size of a mediæval cathedral. It is more remarkable, however, for the beauty of its details than either the arrangement or extent of its plan. Each of the squares into which it is divided is roofed by a dome of very beautiful form, but so flat (Woodcut No. 318) as to be concealed externally in the thickness of the roof. Twelve of these squares are occupied in the centre by the great dome, 57 ft. in diameter in the circular part, but standing on a square measuring 70 ft. each way. The dimensions of this dome were immensely exceeded afterwards by that which covers the tomb of Mahmúd, constructed on the same plan and 124 ft. in diameter; but the smaller dimensions here employed enabled the architect to use taller and more graceful outlines, and if he had had the courage to pierce the niches at the base of his dome, and make them into windows, he would probably have had the credit of designing the most graceful building of its class in existence.

318. Plan and section of smaller Domes of Jumma Musjid.

Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

319. Section on the line A B through the Great Dome of the Jumma Musjid. (From a Drawing by Mr. Cumming.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

If the plan of this mosque is compared with that of Kalburgah{561} (Woodcut No. 314), it will be seen what immense strides the Indian architects had made in constructive skill and elegance of detail during the century and a half that elapsed between the erection of these two buildings. If they were drawn to the same scale this would be more apparent than it is at first sight; but on half the present scale the details of the Kalburgah mosque could hardly be expressed, while the largeness of the parts, and regularity of arrangement can, in the scale adopted, be made perfectly clear in the Bijapur example. The latter is, undoubtedly, the more perfect of the two, but there is a picturesqueness about the earlier building, and a poetry about its arrangements, that go far to make up for the want of the skill and the elegance exhibited in its more modern rival.

The tomb which Ali Adil Shah commenced for himself was a square, measuring about 200 ft. each way, and had it been completed as designed would have rivalled any tomb in India. It is one of the disadvantages, however, of the Turanian system of each king building his own tomb, that if he dies early his work remains unfinished. This defect is more than compensated in practice by the fact that unless a man builds his own sepulchre, the chances are very much against anything worthy of admiration being dedicated to his memory by his surviving relatives.

320. Tomb or Rozah of Ibrahim. (From a Plan by Mr. Cumming.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

His successor Ibrahim, warned by the fate of his predecessor’s tomb, commenced his own on so small a plan—116 ft. square—that as he was blessed by a long and prosperous reign, it was only by ornament that he could render it worthy of himself. This, however, he accomplished by covering every part with the most exquisite and elaborate carvings. The ornamental inscriptions are so numerous that it is said the whole Koran is engraved on its walls. The cornices are supported by the most elaborate bracketing, the windows filled with tracery, and every part so richly ornamented that had his artists not been Indians it might have become vulgar. The principal apartment in the tomb is a square of 40 ft. each way, covered by a stone roof, perfectly flat in the centre, and supported only by a cove pro{562}jecting 10 ft. from the walls on every side. How the roof is supported is a mystery which can only be understood by those who are familiar with the use the Indians make of masses of concrete, which, with good mortar, seems capable of infinite applications unknown in Europe. Above this apartment is another in the dome as ornamental as the one below it, though its only object is to obtain externally the height required for architectural effect, and access to its interior can only be obtained by a dark narrow stair in the thickness of the wall.

Besides the tomb there is a mosque to correspond; and the royal garden, in which these are situated, is adorned, as usual, internally with fountains and kiosks, and externally with colonnades and caravansaries for strangers and pilgrims, the whole making up a group as rich and as picturesque as any in India, and far excelling anything of the sort on this side of the Hellespont.

321. Plan of Tomb of Mahmúd at Bijapur. Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

The tomb of his successor, Mahmúd, was in design as complete a contrast to that just described as can well be conceived, and is as remarkable for simple grandeur and constructive boldness as that of Ibrahim was for excessive richness and contempt of constructive proprieties. It is constructed on the same principle as that employed in the design of the dome of the great mosque (Woodcut No. 319), but on so much larger a scale as to convert into a wonder of constructive skill what, in that instance, was only an elegant architectural design.

As will be seen from the plan, it is internally a square apartment, 135 ft. each way; its area consequently is 18,225 sq. ft., while that of the Pantheon at Rome is, within the walls, only 15,833 sq. ft.; and even taking into account all the recesses in the walls of both buildings, this is still the larger of the two.

At the height of 57 ft. from the floor-line the hall begins to contract, by a series of pendentives as ingenious as they are beautiful, to a circular opening 97 ft. in diameter. On the platform of these pendentives the dome is erected, 124 ft. in diameter, thus leaving a gallery more than 12 ft. wide all round the interior. Internally, the dome is 175 ft. high, externally 198 ft., its general thickness being about 10 ft.

The most ingenious and novel part of the construction of this{563} dome is the mode in which its lateral or outward thrust is counteracted. This was accomplished by forming the pendentives so that they not only cut off the angles, but that, as shown in the plan, their arches intersect one another, and form a very considerable mass of masonry perfectly stable in itself; and, by its weight acting inwards, counteracting any thrust that can possibly be brought to bear upon it by the pressure of the dome. If the whole edifice thus balanced has any tendency to move, it is to fall inwards, which from its circular form is impossible; while the action of the weight of the pendentives being in the opposite direction to that of the dome, it acts like a tie, and keeps the whole in equilibrium, without interfering at all with the outline of the dome.

322. Pendentives of the Tomb of Mahmúd, looking upwards. (From a Drawing by Mr. Cumming.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

In the Pantheon and most European domes a great mass of masonry is thrown on the haunches, which entirely hides the external form, and is a singularly clumsy expedient in every respect compared with the elegant mode of hanging the weight inside.

Notwithstanding that this expedient gives the dome a perfectly stable basis to stand upon, which no thrust can move, still, looking at the section (Woodcut No. 323), its form is such that it appears almost paradoxical that such a building should stand. If the section represented an arch or a vault, it is such as would not stand one hour; but the dome is itself so perfect as a constructive expedient, that it is almost as difficult to build a dome that will fall as it is to build a{564} vault that will stand. As the dome is also, artistically, the most beautiful form of roof yet invented, it may be well, before passing from the most extraordinary and complex example yet attempted anywhere, to pause and examine a little more closely the theory of its construction.

Let us suppose the diagram to represent the plan of a perfectly flat dome 100 ft. in diameter, and each rim consequently 10 ft. wide.

323. Section of Tomb of Mahmúd at Bijapur. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

Further assuming for convenience that the whole dome weighs 7850 tons, the outer rim will weigh 2826 tons, or almost exactly as much as the three inner rims put together; the next will weigh 2204, the next 1568, the next 942, and the inner only 314; so that a considerable extra thickness might be heaped on it, or on the two inner ones, without their preponderance at all affecting the stability of the dome; but this is the most unfavourable view to take of the case. To understand the problem more clearly, let us suppose the semicircle A A A (Woodcut No. 324) to represent the section of a hemispherical{565} dome. The first segment of this, though only 10 ft. in width, will be 30 ft. in height, and will weigh 9420 tons; the next, 10 ft. high and 10 ft. wide, will weigh 3140; the third, 10 ft. by 6 ft., will weigh only 1884; the fourth will weigh 942; and the central portion, as before, 316.

324. Diagram illustrative of Domical Construction.

Now it is evident that the first portion, A B, being the most perpendicular, is the one least liable to disturbance or thrust, and, being also two-thirds of the whole weight of the dome, if steady and firmly constructed, it is a more than sufficient abutment for the remaining third, which is the whole of the rest of the dome.

It is evident from an inspection of the figure, or from any section of the dome, how easy it must be to construct the first segment from the springing; and if this is very solidly built and placed on an immoveable basis, the architect may play with the rest; and he must be clumsy indeed if he cannot make it perfectly stable. In the East they did play with their domes, and made them of all sorts of fantastic forms, seeking to please the eye more than to consult the engineering necessities of the case, and yet it is the rarest possible contingency to find a dome that has fallen through faults in the construction.

In Europe architects have been timid and unskilled in dome-building; but with our present engineering knowledge it would be easy to construct far larger and more daring domes than even this of Mahmúd’s tomb, without the smallest fear of accident.

The external ordonnance of this building is as beautiful as that of the interior. At each angle stands an octagonal tower eight storeys high, simple and bold in its proportions, and crowned by a dome of great elegance. The lower part of the building is plain and solid, pierced only with such openings as are requisite to admit light and air; at the height of 83 ft. a cornice projects to the extent of 12 ft. from the wall, or nearly twice as much as the boldest European architect ever attempted. Above this an open gallery gives lightness{566} and finish to the whole, each face being further relieved by two small minarets.

325. Audience Hall, Bijapur. (From a Photograph.)

The same daring system of construction was carried out by the architects of Bijapur in their civil buildings. The great Audience Hall, for instance (Woodcut No. 325), opens in front with an arch 82 ft. wide, which, had it been sufficiently abutted, might have been a grand architectural feature; as it is, it is too like an engineering work to be satisfactory. Its cornice was in wood, and some of its supports are still in their places. Indeed, it is one of the peculiarities of the architecture of this city that, like the English architects in their roofs, those of Bijapur clung to wood as a constructive expedient long after its use had been abandoned in other parts of India. The Ashur Moobaruk, one of the most splendid palaces in the city, is entirely open on one side, the roof being supported only by two wooden pillars with immense bracket-capitals; and the internal ornaments are in the same material. The result of this practice was the same at Bijapur as in England—far greater depth of framing and greater richness in architectural ornamentation, and an intolerance of constructive awkwardness which led to the happiest results in both countries.

Among the principal edifices in the city is one of those seven-storeyed palaces which come across us so strangely in all out-of-the-way corners of the world. Add to this that the Ashur Moobaruk has been converted by the Mahomedans into a relic-shrine to contain{567} some hairs of the Prophet’s beard, and we have a picture of the strange difficulty of weaning a Tartar from the innate prejudices of his race.

Besides these two there are five other palaces within the walls, some of them of great splendour, and numberless residences of the nobles and attendants of the court. But perhaps the most remarkable civil edifice is a little gateway, known as the Mehturi Mehal (“the Gate of the Sweeper”)—with a legend attached to it too long to quote here. It is in a mixed Hindu and Mahomedan style, every part and every detail covered with ornament, but always equally appropriate and elegant. Of its class it is perhaps the best example in the country, though this class may not be the highest.

The gigantic walls of the city itself, 6¼ miles in circumference, are a work of no mean magnitude, and, combined with the tombs of those who built them, and with the ruins of the suburbs of this once great city, they make up a scene of grandeur in desolation, equal to anything else now to be found even in India.

Scinde.

Among the minor styles of Mahomedan art in India there is one that would be singularly interesting in a historical sense if a sufficient number of examples existed to elucidate it, and they were of sufficient antiquity to connect the style with those of the West. From its situation, almost outside India, the province of Scinde must always have had a certain affinity with Persia and the countries lying to the westward of the Indus, and if we knew its architectural history we might probably be able to trace to their source many of the forms we cannot now explain, and join the styles of the East with those of the West in a manner we cannot at present pretend to accomplish.

It is doubtful, however, whether the materials are in existence for doing this. The buildings in this province were always in brick, no stone being available; and though they are not exposed to the destructive agencies of vegetation like those of Bengal, the mortar is bad, and the bricks are easily picked out and utilised by the natives to build their huts or villages.

All we at present know belongs to a series of tombs in the neighbourhood of Tatta, which were erected under the Mogul dynasty by the governors or great men of the province, during their sway. At least the oldest now known is that of Amir Khalleel Khan, erected in or about A.D. 1572, the year in which Akbar deposed the Jami dynasty and annexed Scinde to his empire. No tombs or mosques of the earlier dynasties have yet been edited, though they may exist. The known series extends from A.D. 1572-1640, and all show{568} a strongly-marked affinity to the Persian style of the same or an earlier age. One example must for the present suffice to explain their general appearance, for they are all very much alike. It is the tomb of the Nawab Amir Khan, who was governor of the province in the reign of Shah Jehan, from A.D. 1627-1632, and afterwards A.D. 1641-1650. The tomb was built apparently about A.D. 1640 (Woodcut No. 326). It is of brick, but was, like all the others of its class, ornamented with coloured tiles, like those of Persia generally, of great beauty of pattern and exquisite harmony of colouring. It is not a very monumental way of adorning a building, but, as carried out on the dome of the Rock at Jerusalem, in the middle of the 16th or in the mosque at Tabreez in the beginning of the 13th century,[534] and generally in Persian buildings, it is capable of producing the most pleasing effects.

326. Tomb of Nawab Amir Khan, near Tatta, A.D. 1640. (From a Photograph.)

Like the other tombs in the province, it is so similar to Persian buildings of the same age, and so unlike any other found at the same age in India Proper, that we can have little doubt as to the nationality of those who erected them.{569}

## CHAPTER X.
MOGUL ARCHITECTURE.

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.

Baber | A.D. 1494
Humayun | 1531
Shere Shah | 1539
Selim | 1545
—— dies | 1553
Akbar | 1556
Jehangir | 1605
Shah Jehan | 1628
Aurungzebe | 1658
Bahadûr Shah | 1707

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{570} admirably adapted for the purposes for which they were built; but what else have they in common? The one is simple in its outline, and depending on pillars for its external adornment; the other has no pillars, and owes its greatest effects to its singularly varied outline and the mode in which its various parts are disposed, many of them wholly detached from the principal mass. The Parthenon belongs, it is true, to a higher class of art, its sculptures raising it into the region of the most intellectual branch of phonetic art; but, on the other hand, the exquisite inlay of precious stones at the Taje is so æsthetically beautiful as, in a merely architectural estimate, almost to bring it on a level with the Grecian masterpiece.[535]

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{571} and of Akbar that they must be treated as one style, beginning in great sobriety and elegance, and ending in something nearly approaching to wildness and exuberance of decoration, but still very beautiful—in some respects superior to the chaste but feeble elegance of the later Mogul style that succeeded it.

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.”[536] In the following pages he describes some of these works, and especially a Bowlee of great magnificence he excavated in the fort of Agra.[537] This was in the year 1526, and he lived to carry on these works for five years longer. During the ten years that his son retained the empire, we learn from Ferishta and other sources that he adorned his capital with many splendid edifices: one, a palace containing seven pavilions or audience-halls—one dedicated to each of the planets, in which he gave audience on the day of the week dedicated to the planet of the day.[538] There are traditions of a mosque he is said to have built on the banks of the Jumna, opposite where the Taje now stands; and his name is so frequently mentioned in connexion with buildings both at Agra and Delhi that there can be little doubt that he was a builder to as great an extent as the troubled character of his reign would admit of. But his buildings have perished, so that practically the history of Mogul architecture commences with the buildings of an Afghan dynasty who occupied the throne of India for sixteen years during the last part of Humayun’s reign.

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{572} generally massacred the inhabitants of any town that resisted him, he always spared the architects and artists, and sent them to work on the embellishment of his capitals. Samarcand was consequently filled with splendid edifices, but, so far as can be judged from the materials available, more resembling in style those of Persia than anything now known to exist in India. The bulbous dome appears everywhere, and was not known at that time in India, unless it was in the quasi-Persian province of Scinde. Coloured tiles were the favourite mode of decoration, and altogether their style was gorgeous in the extreme as compared with the sobriety of the later Pathan buildings in India. A few years hence all this may be made quite clear and intelligible, meanwhile we must pass on to

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.[539] It is a single hall, with five openings in front through pointed arches of what we would call Tudor form, but beautifully varied in design, and arranged in panels carved with the most exquisite designs and ornamented with parti-coloured marbles. One important dome, pierced with twelve small windows, crowns the centre; it has, however, no minarets and no courtyard, but even without these adjuncts it is one of the most satisfactory buildings of its class in India.[540]

In the citadel at Agra there stands—or at least stood when I was{573} there—a fragment of a palace built by Shere Shah, or his son Selim, which was as exquisite a piece of decorative art as anything of its class in India. Being one of the first to occupy the ground, this palace was erected on the highest spot within the fort; hence the present Government, fancying this a favourable site for the erection of a barrack, pulled it down, and replaced it by a more than usually hideous brick erection of their own. This is now a warehouse, and looms, in whitewashed ugliness, over the marble palaces of the Moguls—a fit standard of comparison of the tastes of the two races.[541]

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.[542]{574}

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{575} must who are really desirous of sepulchral magnificence. In doing this they rejected the Egyptian mode of preparing dark and deep chambers in the heart of the rock, or of the massive pyramid. The Tartars, on the other hand, built their sepulchres of such a character as to serve for places of enjoyment for themselves and their friends during their lifetime, and only when they could enjoy them no longer they became the solemn resting-places of their mortal remains.

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{576} dome of white marble, of very graceful contour externally. Four sides of the octagon are occupied by the entrances; to the other four smaller octagonal apartments are attached, making up a building nearly a square in plan, with only the angles slightly cut away.[543] Its plan is in fact that afterwards adopted at the Taje (Woodcut No. 338), but used here without the depth and poetry of that celebrated building. Its most marked characteristic, however, is its purity—it might almost be called poverty—of design. It is so very unlike anything else that Akbar ever built, that it is hardly possible it could have been designed by him. It has not even the picturesque boldness of the earlier Pathan tombs, and in fact looks more like buildings a century at least more modern than it really is. It is, however, a noble tomb, and anywhere else must be considered a wonder.

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).[544]

327. Plan of Tomb of Mohammad Ghaus, Gualior. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

{577}

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.

328. Tomb of Mohammad Ghaus, Gualior. (From a Photograph.)

{578}

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.[545]

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;[546] a peristylar building, called his office, very similar to one he erected at Allahabad, to be mentioned hereafter; a five-storeyed open pavilion, all the pillars of which are most richly carved, and long colonnades and walls connecting these with one another. The richest, the most beautiful,{579} as well as the most characteristic of all his buildings here are three small pavilions, said to have been erected to please and accommodate his three favourite sultanas: hence called Bîr Bul ka Beti ka Mehal, for his Hindu wife, the daughter of his favourite minister, Bîr Bul; Miriam’s House, appropriated to his Christian consort; and the palace of the Roumi Sultana. They are small, but it is impossible to conceive anything so picturesque in outline, or any building carved and ornamented to such an extent, without the smallest approach to being overdone or in bad taste. The two pillars shown in the annexed woodcut, are from a cast from the last-named pavilion, which is now in the South Kensington Museum. It is, perhaps, the most elaborate of the three; but the other two are generally in better taste.

329. Carved Pillars in the Sultana’s Kiosk, Futtehpore Sikri. (From a Photograph.)

The glory, however, of Futtehpore Sikri is its mosque, which is{580} hardly surpassed by any in India (Woodcut No. 330). It measures 550 ft. east and west, by 470 ft. north and south over all. The mosque itself, 290 ft. by 80 ft., is crowned by three domes. In its courtyard, which measures 350 ft. by 440 ft., stand two tombs: that of Selim Chisti, wholly in white marble, and the windows with pierced tracery of the most exquisite geometrical patterns—flowing tracery is a subsequent invention. It possesses besides a deep cornice of marble supported by brackets of the most elaborate design, so much so indeed as to be almost fantastic—the only approach to bad taste in the place; the other tomb, that of Islam Khan, is soberer and in excellent taste, but quite eclipsed by its surroundings. Even these parts, however, are surpassed in magnificence by the southern gateway, measuring 130 ft. by 85 ft. in plan, and of proportionate dimensions in height (Woodcut No. 331). As it stands on a rising ground, when looked at from below, its appearance is noble beyond that of any portal attached to any mosque in India, perhaps in the whole world. This gateway may also be quoted as a perfectly satisfactory solution of a problem which has exercised the ingenuity of architects in all ages, but was more successfully treated by the Saracenic architects than by any others.

330. Mosque at Futtehpore Sikri. (From a Plan by Lieut. Cole, R.E.)

{581}

331. Southern Gateway of Mosque, Futtehpore Sikri. (From a Photograph.)

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,{582} however, to reduce the proportionate size of their portals, though it may be they only opened the lower half, and they covered them, in almost all instances, with porticos to give them a dignity that even their dimensions failed to impart.

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.[547]

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{583} between its outer colonnades with windows of English architecture, and its curious pavilions and other accompaniments removed; and internally, whatever could not be conveniently cut away is carefully covered up with plaster and whitewash, and hid by stands of arms and deal fittings. Still its plan can be made out; a square hall supported by eight rows of columns, eight in each row, thus making in all sixty-four, surrounded by a deep verandah of double columns, with groups of four at the angles, all surmounted by bracket capitals of the most elegant and richest design, and altogether as fine in style and as rich in ornament as anything in India.

332. Hall in Palace at Allahabad. (From a Drawing by Daniell.)

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).[548]

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{584} this, all these being of red sandstone. Within and above the last is a white marble enclosure 157 ft. each way, or externally just half the length of the lowest terrace, its outer wall entirely composed of marble trellis-work of the most beautiful patterns. Inside it is surrounded by a colonnade or cloister of the same material, in the centre of which, on a raised platform, is the tombstone of the founder, a splendid piece of the most beautiful arabesque tracery. This, however, is not the true burial-place; but the mortal remains of this great king repose under a far plainer tombstone in a vaulted chamber in the basement 35 ft. square, exactly under the simulated tomb that adorns the summit of the mausoleum.

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{585} be seen that the number and proportion of the storeys is the same. The pavilions that adorn the upper storeys of Akbar’s tomb appear distinct reminiscences of the cells that stand on the edge of each platform of the rock-cut example. If the tomb had been crowned by a domical chamber over the tombstone, the likeness would have been so great that no one could mistake it, and my conviction is, that such a chamber was part of the original design. No such royal tomb remains exposed to the air in any Indian mausoleum; and the raised platform in the centre of the upper cloister, 38 ft. square, looks so like its foundation that I cannot help believing it was intended for that purpose. As the monument now stands, the pyramid has

334. Diagram Section[549] of one-half of Akbar’s Tomb at Secundra, explanatory of its Arrangements. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

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.[550]{586}

335. View of Akbar’s Tomb, Secundra. (From a Photograph.)

{587}

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-{588}Doulah—at Agra, however, which certainly belongs to this reign, and, though not erected by the monarch himself, cannot be passed over, not only from its own beauty of design, but also because it marks an epoch in the style to which it belongs. It is situated on the left bank of the river, in the midst of a garden surrounded by a wall measuring 540 ft. on each side. In the centre of this, on a raised platform, stands the tomb itself, a square measuring 69 ft. on each side. It is two storeys in height, and at each angle is an octagonal tower, surmounted by an open pavilion. The towers, however, are rather squat in proportion, and the general design of the building very far from being so pleasing as that of many less pretentious tombs in the neighbourhood. Had it, indeed, been built in red sandstone, or even with an inlay of white marble like that of Humayun, it would not have attracted much attention. Its real merit consists in being wholly in white marble, and being covered throughout with a mosaic in “pietro duro”—the first, apparently, and certainly one of the most splendid, examples of that class of ornamentation in India.

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.[551] No instance of this mode of decoration occurs, so far as I know, in the reign of Akbar; but in that of Shah{589} Jehan it became the leading characteristic of the style, and both his palaces and his tombs owe their principal distinction to the beauty of the mode in which this new invention was employed.

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.[552]

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{590} contrast so great as that between the manly vigour and exuberant originality of the first, as compared with the extreme but almost effeminate elegance of the second. Certainly when the same people, following the same religion, built temples and palaces in the same locality, nothing of the sort ever occurred in any country whose history is now known to us.

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.[553]

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.[554] Behind it are two smaller courts, the one containing the Dewanni Khas, or private hall{591} of audience, the other the hareem. The hall in the former is one of the most elegant of Shah Jehan’s buildings, being wholly of white marble inlaid with precious stones, and the design of the whole being in the best style of his reign.

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.[555]

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{592}

336. Palace at Delhi. (From a native Plan in the possession of the Author.)

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{593} Nobut Khana (A), or music hall, beneath which the visitor entered the second or great court of the palace, measuring 550 ft. north and south, by 385 ft. east and west. In the centre of this stood the Dewanni Aum (B), or great audience hall of the palace, very similar in design to that at Agra, but more magnificent. Its dimensions are, as nearly as I can ascertain, 200 ft. by 100 ft. over all. In its centre is a highly ornamental niche, in which, on a platform of marble richly inlaid with precious stones,[556] and directly facing the entrance, once stood the celebrated peacock throne, the most gorgeous example of its class that perhaps even the East could ever boast of. Behind this again was a garden-court; on its eastern side was the Rung Mehal (C), or painted hall, containing a bath and other apartments.

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.{594} each way, was occupied by the hareem and private apartments of the palace, covering, consequently, more than twice the area of the Escurial, or, in fact, of any palace in Europe. According to the native plan I possess, which I see no reason for distrusting, it contained three garden courts, and some thirteen or fourteen other courts, arranged some for state, some for convenience; but what they were like we have no means of knowing. Not one vestige of them now remains. Judging from the corresponding parts of the palace at Agra, built by the same monarch, they must have vied with the public apartments in richness and in beauty when originally erected, but having continued to be used as an abode down to the time of the mutiny, they were probably very much disfigured and debased. Taste was, no doubt, at as low an ebb inside the walls of the palace during the last hundred years as it was outside, or as we find it at Lucknow and elsewhere; but all the essential parts of the structure were there, and could easily have been disencumbered from the accretions that had been heaped upon it. The idea, however, of doing this was far from entering into the heads of our governors. The whole of the hareem courts of the palace were swept off the face of the earth to make way for a hideous British barrack, without those who carried out this fearful piece of Vandalism thinking it even worth while to make a plan of what they were destroying, or preserving any record of the most splendid palace in the world.

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.[557] Being now situated in the middle of a British barrack-yard, they look like precious stones torn from their settings in some exquisite piece of Oriental jeweller’s work and set at random in a bed of the commonest plaster.[558]{595}

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’œuvre 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.[559] Beautiful as it is in itself, the Taje would lose half its charm if it stood alone. It is the combination of so many beauties, and the perfect manner in which each is subordinated to the other, that makes up a whole which the world cannot match, and which never fails to impress even those who are most indifferent to the effects produced by architectural objects in general.

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.{596}

337. View of Taje Mehal. (From a Photograph.)

{597}

338. Plan of Taje Mehal, Agra. (From a Plan by the Author.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

339. Section of Taje Mehal, Agra. Scale 110 ft. to 1 in.

{598}

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’œuvre of elegance in Indian art.[560] Within this stand the tombs—that of Mûmtaz-i-Mehal in the centre, and that of Shah Jehan on one side. These, however, as is usual in Indian sepulchres, are not the true tombs—the bodies rest in a vault, level with the surface of the ground (as seen in the section) beneath plainer tombstones, placed exactly underneath those in the hall above.

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{599} screen that surrounds them, though sparingly introduced on the mosque that forms one wing of the Taje, or on the fountains and surrounding buildings. The judgment, indeed, with which this style of ornament is apportioned to the various parts is almost as remarkable as the ornament itself, and conveys a high idea of the taste and skill of the Indian architects of that age.

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.

340. Plan of Mûti Musjid.
(From a Plan by Gen. Cunningham.)
Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

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{600} domes of the bulbous form that became universal about this time (Woodcut No. 341). The woodcut cannot do it justice, it must be seen to be appreciated; but I hardly know, anywhere, of a building so perfectly pure and elegant, or one that forms such a wonderful contrast with the buildings of Akbar in the same palace.

341. View in Courtyard of Mûti Musjid, Agra. (From a Photograph.)

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{601}

342. Great Mosque at Delhi from the N.E. (From a Sketch by the Author.)

{602}

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{603} unlike in spirit; but so it is, and these three Tajes form a very perfect scale by which to measure the decline of art since the great Mogul dynasty passed its zenith and began its rapid downward career.

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.{604}

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.[561] The tomb, too, of the founder of the dynasty, and the surrounding mausolea, retain a reminiscence of former greatness, but will not stand comparison with the Imperial tombs of Agra and Delhi.

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.’[562]

Even at Lucknow, however, there are some buildings into which{605} the European leaven has not penetrated, and which are worthy of being mentioned in the same volume as the works of their ancestors. Among these is the great Imambara, which, though its details will not bear too close an examination, is still conceived on so grand a scale as to entitle it to rank with the buildings of an earlier age.

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.

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{606}

344. Tomb of the late Nawab of Junaghur. (From a Photograph.)

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.{607} The domes especially can hardly be traced back to their grand and solemn form as used by the Pathan architects. The pinnacles are fanciful, and the brackets designed more for ornament than work. It is a style, in fact, broken loose from the true principles of constructive design, and when this is the case, no amount of ornament, however elegant it may be, will redeem the want of propriety it inevitably exhibits.

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.{608}

## CHAPTER XI.
WOODEN ARCHITECTURE.

CONTENTS.

Mosque of Shah Hamadan, Srinugger.

Kashmir.

Turning for the nonce from this quasi-wooden style—which is only an indication of decadence and decrepitude—it would be pleasing if we could finish our narrative with the description of a true wooden style as it exists in Kashmir. The Jumma Musjid, in the city of Srinugger, is a large and important building, and if not so magnificent as some of those described in the preceding pages, is of great interest from being designed to be constructed in wood, and wood only. A knowledge of its peculiarities would, consequently, help us much in understanding many problems that arise in investigating the history of architecture in India. Unfortunately it is not a fashionable building, and of the 1001 tourists who visit the valley no one mentions it, and no photographer has yet set up his camera within its precincts.[563]

Its plan apparently is the usual one: a courtyard surrounded by cloisters, longer and loftier on the side towards Mecca, its peculiarity being that all the pillars that support its roofs are of Deodar pine—not used, of course, to imitate stone or stone construction, but honest wooden forms, as in Burmese monasteries and elsewhere. The carving on them is, I believe, rich and beautiful, and though dilapidated, the effect is said to be still singularly pleasing.

There is one other mosque in the same city, known as that of Shah Hamadan (Woodcut No. 345), which is equally erected wholly in wood, and though very much smaller than the Jumma Musjid, is interesting, in the first place, because its roof is probably very similar to that which once covered the temple at Marttand (Woodcut No. 161), and the crowning ornament is evidently a reminiscence of a Buddhist{609} Tee, very much altered, it must be confessed, but still not so very unlike some found in Nepal, as at Swayambunath (Woodcut No. 170), for instance, and elsewhere.

345. Mosque of Shah Hamadan, Srinugger. (From a Photograph.)

The walls, too, are of interest to us, because the mode in which the logs are disposed and ornamented resembles the ornamentation of the Orissan temples more clearly than any stone forms we can call to mind. The courses of the stone work in the tower of the great temple at Bhuvaneswar (Woodcut No. 233), the Moitre Serai, and other temples there, produce so nearly the same effect, that it does not seem{610} improbable they may have been derived from some such original. The mode, too, in which the Orissan temples are carved, and the extent to which that class of ornamentation is carried, is much more suggestive of a wooden than of a lithic origin.

These, however, are questions that can only be profitably discussed when we have more knowledge of this Kashmiri style than we now possess. When the requisite materials are available for the purpose, there are few chapters that will be of greater interest, or that will more worthily conclude the Architectural History of India than those that treat of the true and false styles of wooden art, with which the narrative begins, and with which it also ends.{611}

## BOOK VIII.
FURTHER INDIA.

## CHAPTER I.
BURMAH.

CONTENTS.

Introductory—Ruins of Thatún, Prome, and Pagan—Circular Dagobas—Monasteries.

Introductory.

The styles of architecture described in the preceding chapters of this volume practically exhaust the enumeration of all those which were practised in India Proper, with its adjacent island of Ceylon, from the earliest dawn of our knowledge till the present day. It might, therefore, be possible to treat their description as a work complete in itself, and to conclude without reference to other styles practised in neighbouring countries. It will add, however, immensely not only to the interest but to the completeness of the work, if the history is continued through the architectural forms of those countries which adopted religions originating in India, and borrowed with them architectural forms which expressed, with more or less distinctness, how far their religious beliefs differed from, or agreed with, those of the country from which they were derived.

The first of these countries to which we naturally turn is Burmah, which adopted the religion of Sakya Muni at a very early period, and borrowed also many of the Indian forms of architecture, but with differences we are now at a loss to account for. It may be, that, as we know nothing practically of the architectural forms of the Lower Bengal provinces before the beginning of the 6th century, these forms may have been taken to Prome and Pegu before that time; or it may be that a northern or Thibetan element crept into Burmah across the northern mountains by some route we cannot now follow. These are interesting problems we shall not be able to solve till{612} we have a more critical knowledge than we now possess of Burmese buildings. Thanks to the zeal and intelligence of some recent English travellers, we do know a great deal about Burmese art. The works of Symes,[564] Crawfurd,[565] and, above all, of Colonel Yule,[566] are replete with information; but what they did was done in the intervals they were able to snatch from pressing public duties. What is really wanted is, that some qualified person should take up the subject specially, and travel through the country with no other object than to investigate its antiquities. With the knowledge we now have, six months spent on such a mission ought to tell us all, or nearly all, we now want to know.[567] Pending that being done, we must be content to leave a good deal still to be explained by future investigators.

Thatún.

The earliest really authentic notice we have of these countries is in the ‘Mahawanso.’ It is there related that, after the third convocation—B.C. 246—Asoka despatched two missionaries, Sono and Uttaro, to Souverna Bhumi, the Golden Land, to carry the glad tidings of the religion of the Vanquisher.[568] It is now perfectly ascertained that this place was almost certainly the Golden Chersonese of classical geographers, situated on the Sitang river, and now called Thatún, about forty miles’ travelling distance north from Martaban.[569] Since it ceased to be a place of importance, either by the silting up from the river or the elevation of the land, it is now no longer a port; but there can be little doubt that for some centuries before and after the Christian Era it was the emporium through which a very considerable portion of the trade between China and the western world was carried on. The line of passage was apparently across the Bay of Bengal from the delta of the Kistnah and Godavery; and it was to this trade route that we probably owe the rise and importance of Amravati till it was superseded by the direct sea-voyage from Gujerat and the west coast of India in the 6th century. The place was sacked{613} and entirely destroyed, according to Sir A. Phayre, in A.D. 1080, by Anauratha, king of Pegu; but long before that time it had been dwindling, from the growing importance of Pegu, which was founded in A.D. 517 or A.D. 573.[570]

The only description of its ruins is by St. Andrew St. John, in the second volume of the ‘Phœnix’ above referred to; but they seem even now to be very extensive, in spite of neglect and consequent decay. The walls can still be traced for 7700 ft. in one direction by 4000 ft. in another, enclosing a regular oblong of more than 700 acres. In this enclosure are several old pagodas, some, unfortunately, recently repaired, but all of a form we have not yet met with, though we shall presently when we come to speak of Java.

The principal pagoda here, like all the others, is built of hewn laterite. Its base is a square, measuring 104 ft. each way, and 18 ft. high; the second storey is 70 ft. square and 16½ ft. high; the third 48 ft. square and 12 ft. high. On this now stands a circular pagoda, making up the whole height to 85 ft. Mr. St. John fancies this circular part may be much more modern than the rest, but he adds, “the whole face of the pagoda has been carved in patterns; but the most remarkable part is the second storey, to which access is given by four flights of steps, one in the centre of each face. The whole was apparently adorned with sculptures of the most elaborate character.”

There seem to be no data to enable us to fix with certainty the date of this or of other similar pagodas in this place, and no photographs to enable us to speak with certainty as to their details, which is to be regretted, as it is just in such an old city as this that we may expect to find those early forms which may explain so much that is now unintelligible in subsequent examples. Thatún was coeval with Anuradhapura in Ceylon, and if examined with care, might do as much for the square form of temple as the island capital may do for the round form. Their greatest interest would, however, arise from the light they might throw on the square temples of Pagan and other Burmese cities, whose origin it has hitherto been impossible to explain. Meanwhile it is a fact worth bearing in mind that we find here square three-storeyed pagodas, which certainly were erected before A.D. 1080, when the city was destroyed, and probably before the 6th century, when it was practically superseded by the rise of the new city and kingdom of Pegu.

Prome.

If we might trust the Burmese annals, Prome was a capital city as early as the year 101 of Faith, or after the Nirvana of Buddha.[571] In{614} other words, it seems probable that Buddhist missionaries from the second convocation held under Kalasoka, in the previous year (B.C. 433), established themselves here, and introduced the new religion into the country.[572] The real political capital of the country at that time seems to have been Tagoung, half-way between Ava and Bhamo, on the Upper Irawaddi.[573] Prome, however, seems to have continued the religious capital till A.D. 107, when the two capitals were amalgamated, under the name of Old Pagan on the northern site, to be again transferred to New Pagan, below Ava, about the year 847.[574] Upper Pagan seems to have been visited by Captain Hannay, in A.D. 1835, and by others subsequently, and the remains are described as extensive, but too much ruined and obscured by jungle to admit of any scientific investigation. Those of Prome would probably be even more interesting; but I know of no description that enables us to ascertain what they really are. I have photographs of some dagobas—rather too tall to be very old—but, without some mouldings or architectural details, it is impossible to guess even what their age may be; so that practically the architectural history of Burmah begins with the foundation of Pagan in the middle of the 9th century, and as it was destroyed by the Chinese, or rather the Tartar army of Kublai Khan, in 1284,[575] its glory lasted little more than four centuries. During that period, however, it was adorned by a very extensive series of monuments, most of which still remain in a state of very tolerable preservation.

It will thus be observed that the rise and fall of Pagan are, as nearly as may be, coincident with that of Pollonarua, in Ceylon; but the Burmese city seems to have excelled the Ceylonese capital both in the extent of its buildings and in their magnificence. Their differences, too, both in form and detail, are very remarkable, but, if properly investigated, would throw light on many religious and ethnographical problems that are now very obscure.

Pagan.

The ruins of Pagan extend about eight miles in length along the river, with an average breadth of about two miles, and within that space Colonel Yule estimates there may still be traced the remains of 800 or 1000 temples. Several of these are of great magnificence, and{615} are kept in a state of repair; but the bulk of them are in ruins, and the forms of the greater part hardly distinguishable.

346. Plan of Ananda Temple. (From Yule.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

Of these, one of the most remarkable is that of Ananda. As will be seen from the annexed plan (Woodcut No. 346), it is a square of nearly 200 ft. on each side, with projecting porticos on each face, so that it measures 280 ft. across each way. Like all the great pagodas of the city, it is seven storeys in height; six of these are square and flat, each diminishing in extent, so as to give the whole a pyramidal form; the seventh, which is or simulates the cell of the temple, takes the form of a Hindu or Jaina temple, the whole in this instance rising to the height of 183 ft.

347. Plan of Thapinya. (From Yule.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

Internally, the building is extremely solid, being intersected only{616} by two narrow concentric corridors; but in rear of each projecting transept is a niche most artificially lighted from above, in which stands a statue of Buddha more than 30 ft. in height. This is the arrangement we find in the Chaumuk temple at Palitana and at Sadri (Woodcut No. 133), both Jaina temples of the 15th century, and which it is consequently rather surprising to find here as early as the 11th century (A.D. 1066[576]); but the form and the whole of the arrangement of these temples are so unlike what we find elsewhere that we must be prepared for any amount of anomalies.

348. Section of Thapinya. (From Yule.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

{617}

Next in rank to this is the Thapinya—the Omniscient—erected about the year 1100 by the grandson of the king who built the Ananda. It is very similar to the Ananda both in dimensions and in plan, except that it has only one porch instead of four, and consequently only one great statue in its cell instead of four standing back to back. Its height is 201 ft., and it is the highest in the place (Woodcuts Nos. 347, 348).

The third in importance is called the Gaudapalen, built in 1160. This temple is smaller than those just mentioned, but makes up in richness and beauty of detail for its more diminutive dimensions.

The Dhamayangyee, now in ruins, is quite equal in dimensions to the Ananda, and very much resembles it in plan and design; while one called the Sem Byo Koo, is, in its details, the most beautiful of any.

349. View of the Temple of Gaudapalen. (From Yule.)

The general appearance of these temples will be understood from the annexed view (Woodcut No. 349) of that called Gaudapalen, and their general arrangements from the section of the Thapinya, of which a plan is given (Woodcut No. 347). They are all so similar that it is needless to multiply illustrations, the only real difference being in the greater or less amount of ornament in stucco which has been applied to each.

The first thing that strikes the inquirer on examining these temples is their remarkable dissimilarity with anything on the continent of India. They are not topes in any sense of the term, nor are they viharas. The one building we have hitherto met with which they in any way resemble is the seven-storeyed Prasada at Pollonarua (Woodcut No. 106), which, no doubt, belongs to the same{618} class. It is possible that the square pagodas at Thatún, when properly examined, may contain the explanation we are searching for. They evidently were not alone, and many other examples may still be found when looked for. On the whole, however, I am inclined to believe, improbable as it may at first sight appear, that their real synonyms are to be found in Babylonia, not in India. The Birs Nimroud is, like them, a seven-storeyed temple, with external stairs, leading to a crowning cell or sanctuary. Of course, during the seventeen centuries which elapsed between the erection of the two buildings, considerable changes have taken place. The lowest stairs in Burmah have become internal; in Babylonia they were apparently external. At the head of the third flight at the Birs, Sir Henry Rawlinson found the remains of three recesses. At Pagan these had been pushed into the centre of the third storey. The external flights were continued on the upper three storeys at both places; but in Babylonia they lead to what seems to have been the real sanctuary, in Burmah to a simulated one only, but of a form which, in India, always contained a cell and an image of the deity to whom the temple was dedicated.

It may be asked, How is it possible that a Babylonian form should reach Burmah without leaving traces of its passage through India? It is hardly a sufficient answer to say it must have come viâ Thibet and Central Asia; because, in the present state of our knowledge, we do not know of such a route being used. It is a more probable explanation to say that such monuments may have existed in the great Gangetic cities, but, like these Burmese examples, in brick and plaster; and have perished, as they would be sure to do in that climate, and where hostile races succeeded the Buddhists. But, however it may be eventually accounted for, it hardly appears to me doubtful that these Burmese seven-storeyed temples are the lineal descendants of the Babylonian examples, and that we shall some day be able to supply the gaps which exist in their genealogy.

Meanwhile one thing must be borne in mind. The earliest capital of the Burmese was Tagoung in the north, and their real affinities are with the north. They got their religion by the southern route from Bengal, but it was engrafted on a stem of which we know very little, and all whose affinities have yet got to be traced to their source.

Before leaving these square temples, it may be well to point out some peculiarities which are new to us. In the first place it is a purely brick style, and, as such, using true radiating arches, not only to span the openings but to roof their passages and halls. This is so unlike what we find in any part of India Proper, that it seems to point with certainty to some foreign—most probably a northern—country for its origin. As frequently mentioned above, no Buddhist{619} arch is known to exist in India,[577] and, except in the reign of Akbar, hardly a Hindu one, in any temple down to the present day. It could hardly, in consequence, be derived from that country, but there is no reason for believing that the Chinese or Tartar nations ever showed any aversion to these forms. We know, at all events, that the Assyrians and Babylonians used brick arches long before the Christian Era, and the art may have been communicated by them to the nations of Northern Asia, and from them it may have come down the Irawaddi.

It would be a curious speculation to try and find out what the Jains in western India would have done had they been forced to use brick instead of stone during the 11th and 12th centuries, which was the great building epoch on the Irawaddi and in Gujerat. Possibly they would have arrived at the same conclusion, in which case we can only congratulate ourselves that the westerns were not tempted with the fatal facility of bricks and mortar.

Another peculiarity is, that these square Burmese pagodas adopt the curvilinear sikra of the Indo-Aryan style. This may be considered a sufficient indication that they derived some, at least, of their architectural features, as well as their religion, from India; but as this form was adopted by both Jains and Hindus in the north of India, from the mouths of the Indus to the Bay of Bengal in that age, it hardly enables us to point out the particular locality from which it was derived, or the time at which it was first introduced. It is, however, so far as we at present know, the only instance of its being found out of India Proper.

Circular Dagobas.

Leaving these square quasi-Jaina temples, which are clearly exceptional, the dagobas of Burmah are found to be generally much more like those which are found in India and Ceylon, though many, having been erected only in the present century, are of forms more complex and attenuated than those in India Proper.

The one most like the Indian type is that known as the Kong Madú, not far from Mengûn, on the same side of the river. The mass of the dome, according to Colonel Yule,[578] is about 100 ft. diameter. It is taller than a semicircle—which would indicate a modern date—and stands on three concentric bases, each wider than the other. Round the whole is a railing, consisting of 784 stone pillars, each standing about 6 ft. out of the ground, and divided into four quadrants{620} by four stone gateways (Woodcut No. 350). An inscription, on a white marble slab, records the erection of this pagoda between the years 1636 and 1650. I, at one time, thought it must be older; but the evidence of recent explorations renders this date more probable than it formerly appeared. If correct, it is curious as showing how little real change had occurred during the sixteen centuries which elapsed between the erection of the tope at Sanchi (Woodcuts Nos. 10-12) and the seventeenth century.

350. Kong Madú Dagoba. (From Yule.)

Perhaps the most important pagoda in the Burmese empire is the great Shoëmadu[579] at Pegu, of which a plan and elevation are given from those published by Colonel Symes in his account of his embassy to Ava. As will be seen from the woodcuts (Nos. 351, 352), the plan deviates considerably from the circular form, which is exclusively used in the edifices of this class hitherto described, and approaches more nearly to those elaborately polygonal forms which are affected by all the Hindu builders of modern date. It returns, however, to the circular form before terminating, and is crowned, like all Burmese buildings of this class, by an iron spire or tee richly gilt.

Another peculiarity is strongly indicative of its modern date: namely, that instead of a double or triple range of pillars surrounding its base, we have a double range of minute pagodas—a mode of ornamentation that subsequently became typical in Hindu architecture—their temples and spires being covered, and, indeed, composed of innumerable models of themselves, clustered together so as to make up a whole. As before remarked, something of the same sort occurs in Roman art, where every window and opening is surmounted by a{621} pediment or miniature temple end, and in Gothic art, where a great spire is surrounded by pinnacles or spirelets; but in these styles it is never carried to the same excess as in Hindu art. In the present instance it is interesting, as being one of the earliest attempts at this class of decoration.

351. Shoëmadu Pagoda, Pegu. (From Col. Symes’ ‘Embassy to Ava.’)

352. Half-plan of Shoëmadu Pagoda. (From Symes.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

The building stands on two terraces, the lower one about 10 ft.{622} high, and 1391 ft. square; the upper one, 20 ft. in height, and 684 ft. square; from the centre rises the pagoda, the diameter of whose base is 395 ft. The small pagodas are 27 ft. high, and 108 or 110 in number; while the great pagoda itself rises to the height of 331 ft. above its terrace, or 361 ft. above the country, thus reaching a height about equal to that of St. Paul’s Cathedral: while the side of the upper terrace is only 83 ft. less than that of the great Pyramid.

Tradition ascribes its commencement to two merchants, who raised it to the height of 12 cubits, at an age slightly subsequent to that of Buddha himself. Successive kings of Pegu added to it from time to time, till at last it assumed its present form, most probably about three or four centuries ago.

The next in importance, so far as we know, is the more generally known Shoëdagong pagoda at Rangûn, a building very similar in dimensions to the last named, and by no means unlike it, except that the outline of the base is cut up to even a greater extent, and the spire more attenuated—both signs of a comparatively modern date. The base is even more crowded by little temples than that at Pegu, and its whole height is somewhat less. There is, however, no essential difference between the two buildings, and this is principally interesting as leading us one step further in the series from the solid hemispherical mound to the thin spire, which, both in Burmah and Siam, is the modern form usually assumed by these edifices, till they lose all but a traditional resemblance to the buildings from which they originally sprang.

The general appearance of their spires may be gathered from the three shown on the left of the annexed woodcut (No. 353), which is precisely that of the Great Pagoda. This illustration is also valuable as showing the last lineal descendant of these great human-headed winged lions that once adorned the portals of the palaces at Nineveh; but after nearly 3000 years of wandering and ill-treatment have degenerated into these wretched caricatures of their former selves.

The Shoëdagong pagoda, like all the more important ones, is fabled to have been commenced about 2300 years ago, or about the era of Buddha himself; its sanctity, however, is owing to its containing relics, not only of the last Buddha, but also of his three predecessors—Buddha having vouchsafed eight hairs of his head to its two founders, on the understanding that they were to be enshrined with the relics of the three former Buddhas, where and when found.[580] After numerous miraculous indications, on this spot were discovered the staff of Kakusanda, believed to have lived some 3000 years before Christ, the water-dipper of Konagamma, and the bathing garment of Kasyapa, which, with the eight hairs above mentioned, are enshrined within{623} this great pagoda.[581] Originally, however, notwithstanding the value of its deposit, the building was small, and it is probably not more than a century since it assumed its present form.

353. View of Pagoda in Rangûn. (From a Photograph.)

A crowd of smaller pagodas surrounds the larger one, of all sizes, from 30 ft. to 200 ft. in height, and even more. There is scarcely a village in the country that does not possess one or two, and in all the more important towns they are numbered by hundreds; indeed, they may almost be said to be innumerable. They are almost all quite modern, and so much alike as not to merit any distinct or separate{624} mention. They indicate, however, a great degree of progressive wealth and power in the nation, from the earliest times to the present day, and an increasing prevalence of the Buddhistical system. This is a direct contrast to the history of Ceylon, whose glory was greatest in the earliest centuries of the Christian Era, and was losing its purity at the time when the architectural history of Burmah first dawns upon us. Thus the buildings of one country supplement those of the other, and present together a series of examples of the same class, ranging over more than 2000 years, if we reckon from the oldest topes in Ceylon to the most modern in Burmah.

At a place called Mengûn, about half-way between the former capital of Amîrapura and the present one at Mandalé, are two pagodas, which are not without considerable interest for our present purposes; if for no other reason, at least for this—that both were erected within the limits of the present century, and show that neither the forms nor aspirations of the art were wholly extinguished even in our day. The first is circular in form, and was erected in the year 1816, in the reign of a king of Burmah called Bodo Piyah, who is also the author of the second. As will be seen from the woodcut (No. 354), it is practically a dagoba, with five concentric procession-paths. Each of these is ornamented by a curious serpent-like balustrade, interspersed with niches containing, or intended to contain, statues of Buddha, and is accessible by four flights of steps facing the four cardinal points. The whole is surrounded by a low circular wall, 750 ft. in diameter, said to represent the serpent Ananta. Within this is a basement, measuring about 400 ft. across, and this, with the procession-paths and dagoba on the summit, make up seven storeys, intended, it is said, to symbolise the mythical Mount Meru.[582]

It will be recollected that, when speaking of the great dagobas of Anuradhapura in Ceylon, it was pointed out (ante, p. 190) that they had three procession-paths round their bases, ascended in like manner by flights of steps opposite the four cardinal points of the compass. It is interesting to observe here, after a lapse of 2000 years, and at a distance of nearly 1500 miles, the changes have been so small. It is true the number of procession-paths has increased from three to five, and the terraces become relatively much more important than in the older examples; but, barring this and some changes in detail, the{625}

354. Circular Pagoda at Mengûn. (From a Photograph.)

{626}

monuments are practically the same, notwithstanding all the curious varieties that have sprung up in the interval.

The other pagoda at this place was commenced by the same king, called Mentara Gyé, or Bodo Piyah, who died in 1819, and seems to have been an attempt to revive the old square forms of Pagan, in the same manner as the other was intended to recall memories of the older forms of early Indian Buddhism. “It stands on a basement of five successive terraces, of little height, the lower terrace forming a square of 450 ft. From the upper terrace starts the vast cubical pile of the pagoda, 230 ft. square in plan, and rising, in a solid mass, to the height of about 100 ft., with slightly sloping walls. Above this it contracts in successive terraces, three of which had been completed, raising the mass to a height of 165 ft., at the time the work was abandoned.”[583] From a model standing near, it is inferred that, if completed, it would have risen to the height of 500 ft.; it is even now a solid mass containing between 6,000,000 and 7,000,000 cubic feet of brickwork. Had it been carried out, it would have been the tallest building in the world. It was, however, shattered by an earthquake in 1839; but, even in its ruined state, is as large and imposing a mass of brickwork as is to be found anywhere.[584] Since the pyramids of Egypt, nothing so great has been attempted, and it belongs to the 19th century!

Monasteries.

As Burmah is a country in which the monastic system of Buddhism flourishes at the present day to the fullest extent, if we had more information regarding its monasteries, or kioums as they are called, it might enable us to understand the arrangement of the older ones. The travellers who have visited the country have been silent on the subject, principally because the monasteries are, in almost all instances, less magnificent than the pagodas to which they are attached, and are, with scarcely an exception, built of wood—a practice destructive of their architectural character, and also depriving them wholly of that monumental appearance of stability which is so essential to true architectural expression.

This peculiarity is not confined to the monasteries; all residences, from that of the poorest peasant to the palace of the king, having been constructed from time immemorial of this perishable material. The custom has now passed into a law, that no one shall have the power of erecting buildings of stone or brick, except it be the king himself, or unless the edifices be of a purely religious character. Even this exception is not always taken advantage of, for the king’s palace{627} itself is as essentially a wooden erection as the dwelling of any of his subjects. It is, however, not the less magnificent on this account—rather, perhaps, more so—immense sums being spent on the most elaborate carvings, and the whole being lacquered, painted, and gilt, to an extent of which we have no conception in our more sober clime.

355. Façade of the King’s Palace, Burmah. (From a Sketch by Col. Yule.)

The general appearance of the façade may be realised from the annexed view (Woodcut No. 355); but its real magnificence consists{628} in the profusion of gilding and carving with which every part is covered, and to which it is impossible to do justice on so small a scale.

The same profuse decorations are bestowed upon the monasteries, one of which is represented in the annexed woodcut (No. 356), showing a building in which all the defects arising from the use of so easily carved a material, are carried to excess. If the colouring and gilding could be added, it would represent a building such as the West never saw, and, let us hope, never will see; for, however dazzling its splendour, such barbaric magnificence is worthy only of a half-civilized race.

356. Burmese Kioum. (From Col. Symes’ ‘Embassy to Ava.’)

The naked form of these monasteries—if the expression may be used—will be understood from the following woodcut (No. 357) of one recently erected at Mandalé, and, though inhabited, not quite finished. It is five storeys in height, and, if I mistake not, as nearly reproduces the Lowa Maha Paya of Anuradhapura, as the circular Mengûn pagoda does the Abhayagiri or Ruanwelli dagobas there. Here, however, the storeys have lost their meaning; only one storey is used as a residence[585]—the first, or “piano nobile,” as we would call it. The upper storeys are only ornamental reminiscences of past utilitarian forms, but which evidently once had a meaning. Had the building been completed—perhaps it is now—it would have been ornamented with carving as richly as that represented in the pre{629}ceding woodcut, for it is one of the advantages of wooden architecture, that its decorative features may be added after the fabric is practically complete in all essential points.

357. Monastery at Mandalé. (From a Photograph.)

These many-storeyed kioums, with the tall seven-storeyed spires (shown in Woodcuts Nos. 353 and 356), bring us back to the many-storeyed temples in Nepal, which are in all essential respects so nearly identical, that it can hardly be doubted they had a common origin. We are not yet in a position to point out the connecting links which will fuse the detached fragments of this style into a homogeneous whole, but it is probably in China that they must be looked for, only we know so little of the architectural history of the western portion of that great country, that we must wait for further information before even venturing on this subject.

The fact that all the buildings of Burmah are of wood, except the pagodas, may also explain how it is that India possesses no architectural remains anterior to the age of Asoka. Except the comparatively few masonry pagodas, none of which existed prior to his era, there is nothing in Burmah that a conflagration of a few hours would not destroy, or the desertion of a few years entirely obliterate. That the same was the practice of India is almost certain, from the essentially wooden forms still found prevailing in all the earlier cave temples; and, if so, this fully accounts for the disappearance of all earlier monuments.

We know that wooden architecture was the characteristic of Nineveh, where all the constructive parts were formed in this perishable material; and from the Bible we learn that Solomon’s edifices were{630} chiefly so constructed. Persepolis presents us with the earliest instance in Asia of this wooden architecture being petrified, as it were—apparently in consequence of the intercourse its builders maintained with Egypt and with Greece.

In Burmah these wooden types still exist in more completeness than, perhaps, in any other country. Even if the student is not prepared to admit the direct ethnographic connexion between the buildings of Burmah and Babylon—which seems hardly to admit of doubt—he will at any rate best learn in this country to appreciate much in ancient architecture, which, without such a living illustration, it is hard to understand. Solomon’s House of the Cedars of Lebanon is, with mere difference of detail, reproduced at Ava or Amîrapura; and the palaces of Nineveh and Persepolis are rendered infinitely more intelligible by the study of these edifices. Burmah is almost equally important in enabling us to understand what an active, prosperous Buddhist community may have been in India at a time when that religion flourished there; and altogether, if means were available for its full elucidation, it would form one of the most interesting chapters in the History of Architecture in Asia.{631}

## CHAPTER II.
SIAM.

CONTENTS.

Pagodas at Ayuthia and Bangkok—Hall of Audience at Bangkok—General Remarks.

Although the architecture of Siam is very much less important than that of Burmah on the one hand, or Cambodia on the other, it is still sufficiently so to prevent its being passed over in a general summary of styles. Its worst feature, as we now know it, is, that it is so extremely modern. Up to the 14th century the capital of the country was Sokotay, a city on the Menam, 200 miles from the sea in a direct line, and situated close to the hills. This city has not been visited by any traveller in modern times, so we do not know what buildings it may contain. About the year 1350 the Siamese were successful in their wars with the Cambodians, and eventually succeeded in capturing their capital, Intha patha puri, or Indra prestha (Delhi), and practically annexing Cambodia to their kingdom.

Having accomplished this, they moved their capital down to Ayuthia, a little more than fifty miles from the sea; and three centuries afterwards Bangkok succeeded it, and is now the capital. It is by no means certain whether this migration downwards was caused by political events and increasing commerce, or from the country gradually becoming drier and more fit for human habitation. Judging from what happened in Bengal in historical times, I should fancy it was the latter.

In India we find civilized nations first established in the Punjab and on the watershed between the Sutlej and the Jumna. Between 2000 and 3000 years B.C. Oude seems to have become dry enough for human habitation, and Ayodhya[586] (from which the Siamese capital took its name) became the chief city. Between 1000 and 500 B.C. Janakpore on the north, and Rajagriha on the south, were the capital cities of Bengal; but both being situated on the hills, it was not till Asoka’s time (250 B.C.) that Patna on the Soane and Vaisali on the Gunduck, became capitals; and still another 1000 years elapsed before Gaur and Dacca became important, while Moorshedabad, Hooghly, and{632} Calcutta, are cities of yesterday.[587] The same phenomenon seems to have occurred in Siam, and, what is of still more interest, as we shall presently see, in Cambodia.

358. Ruins of a Pagoda at Ayuthia.

As Ayuthia was for three centuries the flourishing capital of one of the great building races of the world, we should, of course, look for considerable magnificence having been displayed in its architecture. From the accounts of the early Portuguese and Dutch travellers who visited it in the days of its glory, it seems to have merited the title they bestowed upon it of the “Venice of the East,” and the remains justify their eulogiums. The buildings, however, seem to have been principally constructed of brick and wood; and as the city has now been practically deserted for more than a century, the wild fig-trees{633} have everywhere inserted their roots into the masonry, and decay has progressed rapidly among the wooden erections. As described by recent visitors, nothing can be more wildly picturesque than this once splendid city, now overgrown with jungle; but such a stage of decay is, of all conditions, the least favourable to the researches of the antiquary.

The form which the older pagodas took at Ayuthia differs in many essential respects from those which we find either in India or in Burmah. The top or upper part has a rounded domical shape, which we can easily fancy to be derived from the tope, but the upright part looks more like the sikra of a Hindu temple than anything Buddhist. If we had a few earlier examples, perhaps we might trace the steps by which the one passed into the other; at present the gaps in the series are too great to be bridged over with anything approaching certainty. One link, however, seems to be supplied by the temples of Nakhon Wat in Cambodia, of which more hereafter.

359. Ruins of a Pagoda at Ayuthia. (From Mouhot.)

The same outline is found in the crowning members of the pagodas of Bangkok, but they are covered with an elaboration of detail and exuberance of coloured ornament that has seldom been surpassed, nor is it desirable it should be, for it is here carried to an extent truly barbarous (Woodcut No. 360).

Notwithstanding the bad taste which they display, these Bangkok pagodas are interesting in the history of architecture as exemplifying the instinctive mode in which some races build, and the innate and irrepressible love of architecture they display. But it also shows how easily these higher aspirations degenerate into something very{634}

360. The Great Tower of the Pagoda Wat-ching at Bangkok. (From Mouhot.)

{635}

like vulgarity, when exercised by a people in so low a stage of civilization as the modern Siamese.

361. Hall of Audience at Bangkok. (From Mouhot.)

The same remarks apply to their civic buildings: palaces and porticos, and even dwelling-houses, are all as rich as carving and{636} gilding, and painting, can make them; but, as in the pagodas, it is overdone, and fails to please, because it verges on vulgarity.

The typical design of all these halls and minor buildings will be understood from the preceding woodcut, representing the Hall of Audience at Bangkok. Like all the others, it has two roofs intersecting one another at right angles, and a spire of greater or less elevation on the intersection. Sometimes one, two, or three smaller gables are placed in front of the first, each lower than the one behind it, so as to give a pyramidal effect to the whole. Generally, the subordinate gables are of the same width as those in the centre; but sometimes the outer one is smaller, forming a porch. In the audience hall just quoted there are three gables each way. These may be seen on the right and left of the central spire in the view, but the first and second towards the front are hidden by the outer gable. The point of sight being taken exactly in front, it looks in the view as if there were only one in that direction.

The Burmese adopt the same arrangement in their civil buildings, and in Siam and Burmah the varieties are infinite, from the simple pavilion with four gables, supported on four pillars,[588] to those with twelve and sixteen gables, combined with a greater complication of walls and pillars for their support.

As the Siamese are certainly advancing in civilization, it may be asked, Will not their architecture be improved and purified by the process? The answer is, unfortunately, too easy. The new civilization is not indigenous, but an importation. The men of progress wear hats, the ladies crinolines, and they build palaces with Corinthian porticos and sash-windows. It is the sort of civilization that is found in the Bazar in Calcutta, and it is not desirable, in an architectural point of view, at all events, if, indeed, it is so in any other respect.{637}

## CHAPTER III.
JAVA.

CONTENTS.

History—Boro Buddor—Temples at Mendoet and Brambanam—Tree and Serpent Temples—Temples at Djeing and Suku.

There is no chapter in the whole history of Eastern art so full of apparent anomalies, or which so completely upsets our preconceived ideas of things as they ought to be, as that which treats of the architectural history of the island of Java. In the Introduction, it was stated that the leading phenomenon in the history of India was the continued influx of race after race across the Indus into her fertile plain, but that no reflex wave had ever returned to redress the balance.[589] This seems absolutely true as regards the west, and practically so in reference to the north, or the neighbouring countries on the east. Thibet and Burmah received their religion from India, not, however, either by conquest or colonisation, but by missionaries sent to instruct and convert. This also is true of Ceylon, and partially so at least of Cambodia. These countries being all easily accessible by land, or a very short sea passage, it is there that we might look for migrations, if any ever took place, but it is not so. The one country to which they overflowed was Java, and there they colonised to such an extent as for nearly 1000 years to obliterate the native arts and civilization, and supplant it by their own. What is still more singular is, that it was not from the nearest shores of India that these emigrants departed, but from the western coast. We have always been led to believe that the Indians hated the sea, and dreaded long sea voyages, yet it seems almost certain that the colonists of Java came not from the valley of the Ganges, but from that of the Indus, and passed round Ceylon in thousands and tens of thousands on their way to their distant sea-girt home. The solution of this difficulty may perhaps be found in the suggestion that the colonists were not Indians after all, in the sense in which we usually understand the term, but nations from the north-west—the inhabitants in fact of{638} Gandhara and Cambodia, who, finding no room for new settlements in India Proper, turning to their right, passed down the Indus, and sought a distant home on this Pearl of Islands.

Whoever they were, they carried with them the bad habit of all their cognate races, of writing nothing, so that we have practically no authentic written record of the settlement and of its subsequent history, and were it not that they made up for this deficiency to a great extent by their innate love of building, we should hardly know of their existence in the island. They did, however, build and carve, with an energy and to an extent nowhere surpassed in their native lands, and have dignified their new home with imperishable records of their art and civilization—records that will be easily read and understood, so soon as any one will take the trouble to devote to them the attention with which they deserve to be studied.

It has been said, and not without reason, that the English did more for the elucidation of the arts and history of Java during the five years they held the island (1811 to 1816) than the Dutch had done during the previous two centuries they had practically been in possession. The work of the governor, Sir Stamford Raffles, is a model of zealous energy and critical acumen, such as is rarely to be found of its class in the English language, and is the storehouse from which the bulk of our knowledge of the subject must still be derived. His efforts in this direction were well seconded by two Scotchmen, who took up the cause with almost equal zeal. One of these, John Crawfurd, noted down everything he came across with patient industry, and accumulated vast stores of information—but he could not draw, and knew nothing of architecture or the other arts, with which he had no sympathy. The other, Colin Mackenzie—afterwards Surveyor-General of India—drew everything he found of any architectural importance, and was the most industrious and successful collector of drawings and manuscripts that India has ever known; but he could not write. The few essays he attempted are meagre in the extreme, and nine-tenths of his knowledge perished with him. Had these two men been able to work together to the end, they would have left little for future investigation. There was, however, still a fourth labourer in the field—Dr. John Leyden—who, had his life been spared, could have easily assimilated the work of his colleagues, and with his own marvellous genius for acquiring languages and knowledge of all sorts, would certainly have lifted the veil that now shrouds so much of Javan history in darkness, and left very little to be desired in this respect. He died, however, almost before his work was begun, and the time was too short, and the task too new, for the others to do all that with more leisure and better preparation they might have accomplished.{639}

During the last sixty years the Dutch have done a good deal to redeem the neglect of the previous centuries, but, as has happened in the sister island of Ceylon, it has been without system, and no master mind has arisen to give unity to the whole, or to extract from what is done the essence, which is all the public care to possess. The Dutch Government have, however, published, in four great folio volumes, 400 plates, from Mr. Wilsen’s drawings, of the architecture and sculptures of Boro Buddor; and the Batavian Society[590] have published sixty-five photographic plates of the same monument; and as Dr. Leemans of Leyden has added a volume of text, historical and descriptive, there is no monument in the East so fully and so well illustrated as this one, and probably none that better deserves the pains that have been bestowed upon it.[591] The same Society have also published 332 photographs of other Javan antiquities and temples, but, unfortunately, for the most part without any accompanying text. A thoroughly well qualified antiquary, Heer Brumund, was employed to visit the localities, and write descriptions, but unfortunately he died before his task was half complete. A fragment of his work is published in the 33rd volume of the ‘Transactions’ of the Society, but it is only a fragment, and just sufficient to make us long for more. At the same time an Oriental scholar, Dr. Friederich, was employed by Government to translate the numerous inscriptions that abound in the island, and which, without doubt, would explain away all the difficulties in the history of the island and its monuments. Some of these were published in the 26th volume of the ‘Verhandelingen’ in 1856, and more were promised, but ill-health and accidents have hitherto prevented this being done, and if he should happen to die before publishing the results, the accumulations of half a century may perish with him.

From the above it may be gathered that a considerable amount of information exists in English and Dutch publications regarding the antiquities of Java, but it is rudis indigestaque moles—descriptions without illustration, and drawings and photographs without description, very few plans, and, except for Boro Buddor, very few architectural details; no statistical account, and no maps on which all the places can be recognised. It is provoking to think when so much has been done, how little more is required to bring order out of chaos, and fuse the whole into one of the most interesting and most easily intelligible chapters of architectural history.{640}

History.

Amidst the confusion of their annals, it is rather fortunate that the Javans make no claim to more remote political history than the fabled arrival in the island of Adji Saka, the founder of the Saka era of the Buddhists, in A.D. 79. It is true that in the 8th or 9th century they obtained an abridged translation of the ‘Mahabharata,’ and, under the title of the ‘Brata Yudha,’ adopted it as a part of their own history, assigning sites on the island for all the principal scenes of that celebrated struggle which took place in the neighbourhood of Delhi and Hastinapura, adding only their own favourite Gendara Desa (Gandhara), to which they assigned a locality on the north of the island.[592] It is thus, unfortunately, that history is written in the East, and because it is so written, the Javans next thought it necessary to bring Salivahana, the founder of the Saka era, to their island also. Having, as Buddhists, adopted his era, their childish vanity required his presence there, but as it is certain he never saw the island, his visit is fabled to have resulted in failure, and said to have left no traces of his presence.

The next person who appears on the scene is one of the most mysterious in Indian history. In the annals of Siam,[593] of Cambodia,[594] of Java,[595] and at Amravati,[596] a prince of Rom, or Rum, coming from Taxila, plays a most important part, but without apparently any very permanent result. Nowhere is his name given, nor any particulars; most probably it is only a reminiscence of King Commerce. Nothing is more likely than that the ships of the Roman or Byzantine emperors, with their disciplined crews, should have made an impression on the semi-civilized communities of these remote lands, and the memory be perpetuated in fabled exploits to modern times.[597]

Leaving these fabulous ages, we at last come to a tradition that seems to rest on a surer foundation. “In the year 525 (A.D. 603), it being foretold to a king of Kuj’rat, or Gujerat, that his country would decay and go to ruin, he resolved to send his son to Java. He embarked with about 5000 followers in six large and about 100 small vessels, and after a voyage of four months, reached an island they supposed to be Java; but finding themselves mistaken, re-embarked, and finally settled at Matarem, in the centre of the island they were{641} seeking.” “The prince now found that men alone were wanting to make a great and flourishing state; he accordingly applied to Gujerat for assistance, when his father, delighted at his success, sent him a reinforcement of 2000 people.” “From this period,” adds the chronicle, “Java was known and celebrated as a kingdom; an extensive commerce was carried on with Gujerat and other countries, and the bay of Matarem was filled with adventurers from all parts.”

During the sovereignty of this prince and his two immediate successors, “the country advanced in fame and prosperity. The city of Mendang Kumulan, since called Brambanan, increased in size and splendour: artists, particularly in stone and metals, arrived from distant countries, and temples, the ruins of which are still extant, were constructed both at this place and at Boro Buddor, in Kedu, during this period by artists invited from India.”[598]

All this is fully confirmed by an inscription found at Menankabu, in Sumatra, wherein a king, who styles himself Maha Raja Adiraja Adityadharma King of Prathama—the first or greatest Java—boasts of his conquests and prowess, and he proclaims himself a Buddhist, a worshipper of the five Dyani Buddhas, and records his having erected a great seven-storeyed vihara in honour of Buddha.[599] This inscription is dated fifty years later, or in A.D. 656, but its whole tone is so completely confirmatory of the traditions just quoted from Sir S. Raffles, that there seems little doubt the two refer to events occurring about the same time.

The only other event of importance in these early times bearing on our subject is Fa Hian’s visit to the island in A.D. 414, on his way from Ceylon to China by sea. The more, however, I think of it, the more convinced I am that Java the Less, or Sumatra, was really the island he visited. It certainly was the Iabadius, or Yavadwipa, of Ptolemy, and the Java the Less of the Arab geographers and of Marco Polo;[600] and all the circumstances of the voyage seem to point rather to this island than to Java proper. His testimony is, however, valuable, as they seem to have been united under one emperor in A.D. 656, and may have been so two centuries earlier. “In this country,” he says, “Heretics and Brahmans flourish; but the Law of Buddha is not much known.”[601] As he resided there five months, and had been fourteen years in India, he knew perfectly what he was speaking about.{642}

That there were Brahmans in these islands before the advent of the Buddhist emigrants in the 7th century seems more than probable from the traditions about Tritrésta collected by Sir S. Raffles[602] and others; but, if so, they were Aryan Brahmans, belonging to some of the non-building races, who may have gone there as missionaries, seeking converts, but hardly as colonists or conquerors. Indeed, all over the island circles of stone are found, either wholly unfashioned or carved into rude representations of Hindu deities—so rude that even Ganesa can hardly sometimes be recognised; and it frequently requires an almost Hindu trustfulness to believe that these rude stones sometimes represent even Siva and Vishnu and other gods of the Hindu Pantheon.[603] It seems as if the early Brahmans tried to teach their native converts to fashion gods for themselves, but, having no artistic knowledge of their own to communicate, failed miserably in the attempt. The Buddhists, on the contrary, were artists, and came in such numbers that they were able to dispense with native assistance, nearly if not altogether.

The next recorded event that seems to bear on our investigations is the mission of the children of Dewa Kusuma to Kling or India, in order that they might be educated in the Brahmanical religion.[604] This event took place in A.D. 924, and seems to point distinctly to a time when the Buddhist religion, as evidenced by the erection of Boro Buddor, had died out, and the quasi-Hindu temples of Brambanam and Singa Sari had superseded those of the Buddhists. Those at Brambanam are said to have been completed in A.D. 1097, which seems an extremely probable date for the Chandi Sewa, or “1000 temples,” which, however, are much more Jaina than Hindu. From that period till the beginning of the 15th century, the series of monuments—many of them with dates upon them[605]—are tolerably complete, and there will be no difficulty in classifying them whenever the task is fairly undertaken.

At this time we find the island divided into two kingdoms; one, having its capital at Pajajaram, about forty miles east of Batavia, occupied the whole of the western or Sunda part of the island. The Sundas, however, were not a building race, and the portion occupied{643} by them need not be again referred to here. It contains no buildings except the rude Hindu remains above referred to.

The eastern portion of the island was occupied by the kingdom of Majapahit, founded, apparently, about the year 1300. It soon rose to a higher pitch of power and splendour than any of the preceding kingdoms, and the capital was adorned with edifices of surpassing magnificence, but mostly in brick, so that now they are little more than a mass of indistinguishable ruins. When, however, it had lasted little more than a century, Mahomedan missionaries appeared on the island, and gradually—not by conquest or the sword, but by persuasion—induced the inhabitants of the island to forsake the religion of their forefathers and adopt that of the Arabian Prophet. In the year 1479 the Mahomedans had become so powerful that the city of Majapahit was taken by them by storm, and the last Hindu dynasty of the island overthrown, and those that remained of the foreign race driven to take refuge in the island of Bali.[606]

Then occurred what was, perhaps, the least-expected event in all “this strange eventful history.” It is as if the masons had thrown away their tools, and the chisels had dropped from the hands of the carvers. From that time forward no building was erected in Java, and no image carved, that is worth even a passing notice. At a time when the Mahomedans were adorning India with monuments of surpassing magnificence no one in Java thought of building either a mosque, or a tomb, or a palace that would be deemed respectable in any second-class state in any part of the world.

For nearly nine centuries (A.D. 603-1479) foreign colonists had persevered in adorning the island with edifices almost unrivalled elsewhere of their class; but at the end of that time, as happened so often in India, their blood had become diluted, their race impure, their energy effete, and, as if at the touch of a magician’s wand, they disappear. The inartistic native races resumed their sway, and art vanished from the land, never, probably, again to reappear.

Boro Buddor.

There may be older monuments in the island of Java than Boro Buddor, but, if so, they have not yet been brought to light. The rude stone monuments of the western or Sunda end of the island may, of course, be older, though I doubt it; but they are not architectural, and of real native art we know nothing.

When Sir S. Raffles and J. Crawfurd wrote their works, no{644} means existed of verifying dates by comparison of styles, and it is, therefore, little to be wondered at if the first gives A.D. 1360,[607] and the second A.D. 1344,[608] as the date of this building. The former, however, was not deceived by this date, inasmuch as at page 67 he says, “The edifices at Singa Sari were probably executed in the 8th or 9th century. They nearly resemble those of Brambanam and Boro Boddor. It is probable the whole were constructed about the same period, or within the same century; at any rate, between the sixth and ninth century of the Christian Era.” This, perhaps, errs a little the other way. Heer Brumund, on historical grounds, places Boro Buddor “in the ninth, perhaps even in the eighth century of the Christian Era.”[609] On architectural grounds I would almost unhesitatingly place it a century earlier. The style and character of its sculptures are so nearly identical with those of the latest caves at Ajunta (No. 26, for instance), and in the western Ghâts, that they look as if they were executed by the same artists, and it is difficult to conceive any great interval of time elapsing between the execution of the two. If I am correct in placing the caves in the first half of the 7th century, we can hardly be far wrong in assigning the commencement, at least, of the Javan monument to the second half of that century. This being so, I am very much inclined to believe that Boro Buddor may be the identical seven-storeyed vihara, mentioned by Aditya Dharma in his inscription at Menankabu.[610] Its being found in Sumatra does not appear to me to militate against this view. Asoka’s inscriptions are found in Gandhara, Saurastra, and Orissa, but not in Behar. At home he was known: but it may be that he desired to place a permanent record of his greatness in the remote portions of his dominions. The date of the inscription, A.D. 656, accords so exactly with the age I would assign to it from other sources, that it may at least stand for the present. Of course, it was not completed at once, or in a few years. The whole group, with Chandi Pawon and Mendout, may probably extend over a century and a half—down, say, to A.D. 800, or over the whole golden age of Buddhism in the island.

It certainly is fortunate for the student of Buddhist art in India that Boro Buddor (Woodcuts Nos. 362 and 363) has attracted so much attention; for, even now, the five folio volumes of plates recently devoted to its illustration do not contain one figure too many for the{645}

362. Half-plan of Temple of Boro Buddor. (From a Plate in the second edition of Sir Stamford Raffles’ ‘History of Java.’) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

363. Elevation and Section of Temple of Boro Buddor. (From an unpublished Plate intended for Sir Stamford Raffles’ ‘History of Java.’)

{646}

purpose of rendering its peculiarities available for scientific purposes: the fact being that this monument was erected just at the time when the Buddhist system attained its greatest development, and just before its fall. It thus contains within itself a complete epitome of all we learn from other sources, and a perfect illustration of all we know of Buddhist art or ritual. The 1000 years were complete, and the story that opened upon us at Bharhut closes practically at Boro Buddor.

The fundamental formative idea of the Boro Buddor monument is that of a dagoba with five procession-paths. These, however, have become square in plan instead of circular; and instead of one great domical building in the centre we have here seventy-two smaller ones, each containing the statue of a Buddha (Woodcut No. 364), visible through an open cage-like lattice-work; and one larger one in the centre, which was quite solid externally (Woodcut No. 365), but had a cell in its centre, which may have contained a relic or some precious object. There is, however, no record of anything being found in it when it was broken into. All this is, of course, an immense development beyond anything we have hitherto met with, and a sort of half-way house between the majestic simplicity of the Abhayagiri at Anuradhapura, and the somewhat tawdry complexity of the pagoda at Mengûn (Woodcut No. 354).

364. Section of one of the smaller Domes at Boro Buddor. | 365. Elevation of principal Dome at Boro Buddor. (From Sir S. Raffles’ ‘History of Java.’)

With the idea of a dagoba, however, Boro Buddor also combines that of a vihara, such as that illustrated by Woodcuts Nos. 66, 67. There the cells, though only copied solid in the rock, still simulated the residences of the monks, and had not yet advanced to the stage we find in the Gandhara monasteries, where the cells of monks had become niches for statues. Here this is carried further than in any example found in India. The cells of the Mahavellipore example are here repeated on every face, but essentially as niches, and are occupied by 436 statues of Buddha, seated in the usual cross-legged attitude. In this respect Boro Buddor is in advance of the Takht-i-Bahi, which is the monument in India that most nearly approaches{647} to it in mythological significance. So great, indeed, is the similarity between the two, that whatever date we assign to the one drags with it that of the other. It would, indeed, be impossible to understand how, in the 7th century, Buddhism had been so far developed towards the modern Nepalese and Thibetan systems if we had not these Gandhara monasteries to fall back upon. On the other hand, having so similar a Buddhist development in Java in the 7th century, it seems difficult to separate the monuments of the north-west of India from it by any very long interval of time.

As will be observed from the plan and elevation (Woodcuts Nos. 362, 363, page 645), the monument may be described either as a seven or a nine-storeyed vihara, according as we reckon the platform on which the seventy-two small dagobas stand as one or three storeys. Its basement measures over 400 ft. across, but the real temple is only 300 ft. from angle to angle either way. It is not, however, either for its dimensions or the beauty of its architectural design that Boro Buddor is so remarkable, as for the sculptures that line its galleries. These extend to nearly 5000 ft.—almost an English mile—and as there are sculptures on both faces, we have nearly 10,000 lineal ft. of bas-reliefs; or, if we like to add those which are in two storeys, we have a series of sculptures, which, if arranged consecutively in a row, would extend over nearly three miles of ground. Most of them, too, are singularly well preserved; for when the Javans were converted to Mahomedanism it was not in anger, and they were not urged to destroy what they had before reverenced; they merely neglected them, and, except for earthquakes, these monuments would now be nearly as perfect as when first erected.

The outer face of the basement, though extremely rich in architectural ornaments and figure-sculptures, is of comparatively little historical importance. The first enclosed—or, as the Dutch call it, the second—gallery is, of all the five, the most interesting historically. On its inner wall the whole life of Sakya Muni is pourtrayed in 120 bas-reliefs of the most elaborate character. The first twenty-four of these are occupied with scenes in the Tusita heavens, or events that took place before the birth. In the twenty-fifth we have Maya’s dream, depicted exactly as it is at Bharhut or Sanchi, 700 or 800 years earlier. In the following sculptures it is easy to recognise all the familiar scenes of his life, his marriage, and domestic happiness, till he meets the four predictive signs; his subsequent departure from home, and assumption of the ascetic garb; his life in the forest; his preaching in the Deer-garden at Benares—the whole Lalita Vistara, in short, pourtrayed, with very few variations from the pictures we already possess from Gandhara to Amravati, with this singular exception: in all Indian examples the birth and the Nirvana are more frequently repeated than any other events; for{648} some reason, not easily guessed, they are omitted here, though all the events that preceded and followed them are minutely detailed.[611] Below these bas-reliefs depicting the life of Buddha is an equally extensive series of 120 bas-reliefs of subjects taken from the Jataka, all of which might, no doubt, be easily identified, though this has not yet been attempted.

In the three galleries above this Buddhism is represented as a religion. Groups of Buddhas—three, five or nine—are repeated over and over again, mixed with Bodhisatwas and saints of all sorts. Among these, the five Dhyani Buddhas are conspicuous in all, perhaps more than all, the variety of manifestations which are known in Nepal and Thibet,[612] which, as Lassen points out, almost inevitably leads to the conclusion that this form of faith was introduced from Nepal or Western Thibet.[613]

Whether this is exactly so or not, no one probably who is familiar with Buddhist art in its latest age on the western side of India will probably doubt that it was from these parts that the builders of Boro Buddor migrated. The character of the sculptures, and the details of the ornamentation in cave 26 at Ajunta, and 17 at Nassick, and more especially in the later caves at Salsette, at Kondoty, Montpezir, and other places in that neighbourhood, are so nearly identical with what is found in the Javan monument, that the identity of the workmen and workmanship is unmistakeable. It is true we have no monument in that part of India to which we can point that at all resembles Boro Buddor in design, but then it must be borne in mind that there is not a single structural Buddhist building now existing within the limits of the cave region of Western India. It seems absurd, however, to suppose that so vast a community confined themselves to caves, and caves only. They must have had structural buildings of some sort in their towns and elsewhere, but not one fragment of any such now exists, and we are forced to go to Gandhara, in the extreme north-west, for our nearest examples. As already pointed out, there are many points of similarity between Jamalgiri, and more especially between Takht-i-Bahi and Boro Buddor; and if any architect, who was accustomed to such work, would carefully draw and restore these northern monasteries, many more might become apparent.[614] We know{649} enough even now to render this morally certain, though hardly sufficient to prove it in the face of much that may be brought forward by those who care to doubt it. Meanwhile, my impression is, that if we knew as much of these Gandhara monasteries as we know of Boro Buddor, we could tell the interval of time that separated them, probably within half a century at least.

366. View of Central Entrance and Stairs at Boro Buddor. (From a Lithographic Plate.)

{650}

Stretching such evidence as we at present have, as far as it will bear, we can hardly bring the Takht-i-Bahi monastery within one century of Boro Buddor. It may be two—and Jamalgiri is still one or two centuries more distant in time. But, on the other hand, if we had not these Gandhara monasteries to refer to, it would be difficult to believe that the northern system of Buddhism could have been so completely developed, even in the 8th century, as we find it at Boro Buddor. It is this wonderful progress that has hitherto made the more modern date of that monument probable—it looks so much in advance of anything we know of in Indian Buddhism. But all this we must now revise by the light these Javan monuments throw on the subject.

Being merely a pyramid, situated on the summit of a hill, there were no constructive difficulties encountered in the erection of Boro Buddor, and it is consequently no wonder that it now remains so entire, in spite of its being, like all Javan buildings, erected wholly without mortar. It is curious to observe, however, how faithfully its architects adhered to the Indian superstition regarding arches. They did not even think it necessary to cut off the angles of the corbel-stones, so as to simulate an arch, though using the pointed-arched forms of the old chaitya caves of the west. The two systems are well exemplified in the preceding Woodcut (No. 366), but it runs throughout. All the niches are surmounted by arch forms—circular, elliptical, or pointed—but all are constructed horizontally, and it may be added that, in nine cases out of ten, the keystones are adorned with a mask, as in this last example.

Mendoet.

At a place called Mendoet, about two and a half miles from Boro Buddor, there is a temple of a very different class, which, though small, is of extreme interest for the history of Javan architecture. It stands on a basement 70 ft. square, and 15 ft. to 16 ft. high. The temple itself is about 45 ft. square, including a projection on each face, which gives it a slightly cruciform shape. Inside is a cell, about 20 ft. square, roofed by an inverted pyramid of steps, in which are three colossal images seated, and about 11 ft. high each. The central one is Buddha, curly headed of course, and clad in a diaphanous robe.[615] The two other colossi, though having only two arms each, are almost certainly intended for Vishnu and Siva. On one of the faces, exter{651}nally, is Laksmi, eight-armed, seated on a lotus, with attendants. On another face is a figure, four-armed, seated cross-legged on a lotus, the stem of which is supported by two figures with seven-headed snake-hoods. It is in fact a slightly altered repetition of a group inserted among the older sculptures on the façade of the cave at Karli.[616] That insertion I have always believed to be of the 6th or 7th century; this group is certainly slightly more modern. The curious part of the matter is, that the Mendoet example is so very much more refined and perfect than that at Karli. The one seems the feeble effort of an expiring art; the Javan example is as refined and elegant as anything in the best ages of Indian sculpture. The same remarks apply to the sacred tree under which the figure is seated. Like all the similar conventional trees at Boro Buddor, they are complicated and refined beyond any examples known in India.

The great interest, however, of this little temple arises from the fact that it almost certainly succeeded immediately to Boro Buddor. If it is correct to assume A.D. 650-750 as the period during which that temple was erected, this one must have been built between A.D. 750 and A.D. 800. It shows, too, a progress in design at a time when Buddhist art in India was marked by decay; and it exhibits such progress in mythology, that though there can be no doubt as to the purity of the Buddhism of Boro Buddor, anyone might fairly argue that this temple belonged either to that religion or to Hinduism. It is in fact one of those compromises that in India would be called Jaina; in other words, one of those transitional examples of which we have many in Java, but the want of which leaves such a gap in our history of architecture in India.

Brambanam.

At a distance of twenty miles south-east from Boro Buddor is a group of temples, marking the site of the old Hindu capital of the island, which are almost as interesting as that great temple itself. They are unfortunately much less known, or, at all events, have not been illustrated to anything like the same extent. They are, however, so much more ruined, that it may be owing to this that their details have not been so completely made out; but from whatever cause, we cannot speak of them with the same confidence as of Boro Buddor.

The oldest group at Brambanam seems to be that known as Loro Jongram, consisting of six larger temples, enclosed in a wall, and surrounded by fourteen smaller cells.[617] They may be of the age of Deva{652} Kosuma, or of the beginning of the 9th century, and possibly are not the earliest Hindu temples here, but till we have more illustrations it is impossible to speak of this with confidence.

The great interest of the place centres in a temple known as the Chandi Siwa, or, “thousand temples,” which is, or was, when complete, only second to Boro Buddor in interest. The general character of the great temple will be understood from the annexed plan of a smaller one at the same place (Woodcut No. 367). Both consist of a central temple, surrounded by a number of smaller detached cells. In this instance there are only sixteen such, each of which is supposed to have contained an image—Buddha—Jaina, or Saiva, according to the dedication of the central cell.

367. Small Temple at Brambanam. (From a Drawing at the India Office.) No scale.

In the great temple the central cell measured 45 ft. each way, and with the four attached cells, one of which served as an entrance porch, it formed a cross 90 ft. each way, the whole being raised on a richly ornamented square base. This building is richly and elaborately ornamented with carving, but with a singular absence of figure-sculpture, which renders its dedication not easy to be made out; but the most remarkable feature of the whole group is the multitude of smaller temples which surround the central one, 238 in number. Immediately beyond the square terrace which supports the central temple stand twenty-eight of these—a square of eight on each side, counting the angular ones both ways. Beyond these, at a distance of 35 ft., is the second square, forty-four in number; between this and the next row is a wide space of above 80 ft., in which there are only six temples, two in the centre of the north and south faces, and one on each of the others. The two outer rows of temples are situated close to one another, back to back, and are 160 in number, and form a square, each face of which is about 525 ft. All these 238 temples are similar to one another, about 12 ft. square at the base, and 22 ft. high,[618]

{653} all richly carved and ornamented, and in every one is a small square cell, in which was originally placed a cross-legged figure, probably of one of the Jaina saints, though the drawings which have been hitherto published do not enable us to determine whom they represent—the draughtsmen not being aware of the distinction between Buddhist and Jaina images.

When looked a little closely into, it is evident that the Chandi Siwa is neither more nor less than Boro Buddor taken to pieces, and spread out, with such modifications as were necessary to adapt it to that compromise between Buddhism and Brahmanism which we call Jaina.

Instead of a central dagoba, with its seventy-two subordinate ones, and its five procession-paths, with their 436 niches containing figures of Buddha, we have here a central cell, with four subordinate ones, each containing no doubt similar images, and surrounding these 236 cells, containing images arranged in five rows, with paths between, but not joined together with sculpture-bearing screens, as in the earlier examples, nor joined side by side with the sculpture on their fronts, or inside, as was invariably the case in similar temples in Gujerat of the same age.

Sir Stamford Raffles states A.D. 1098[619] for the completion of this temple which, from the internal evidence, I fancy cannot be far from the truth. It would, however, be extremely interesting if it could be fixed with certainty, as these Javan monuments will probably be found to be the only means we have of bridging over the dark ages in India. Already we can see that Takht-i-Bahi, Boro Buddor, and Chandi Siwa form landmarks in a series extending over at least 500 years, which we may hope some day to fill up, though the materials for it do not at present exist. We have not even correct drawings of the pickle-bottle-like cells of the Gandhara monasteries, and those at Chandi Siwa are so ruined, that it is difficult to make out their form. It seems, however, quite clear that they, with the domes and spires that crown the cells of the Boro Buddor façade, form parts of one connected series. They are, in fact, merely developments of one form which, with a little information, it would be very easy to trace back to its original source.

Tree and Serpent Temples.

There is still another class of temples in Java which, when properly investigated, promises to throw great light on some vexed questions of Indian mythology and art. They are found principally in the{654} provinces of Kediri and Malang, in the eastern part of the island, and, from dates on some of them, seem to be among the most modern examples of Javan art, all hitherto known being dated in the century preceding the overthrow of Majapahit in A.D. 1479.

Four of these are described by Heer Brumund,[620] but only one, so far as I know, that of Panataram in Kediri, has been photographed, and no plans or architectural details of any have yet been published. It is consequently difficult to speak with certainty regarding them, but they are too interesting to be passed over in silence. The annexed woodcut will convey some idea of that at Panataram, though necessarily on too small a scale to render all its details recognisable. Generally they may be described as three-storeyed pyramids, having a flat platform on the top, with a well-hole in its centre open to the sky. In this instance the lower platform, so far as I can make out, is about 100 ft. square, with a projection or bastion on each face, behind which the stairs leading to its summit are arranged, as in the great Ceylonese dagobas (ante, p. 190). From this a flight of sixteen steps leads direct to the platform of the second, and a similar flight to that of the third storey. The basement here is ornamented with numerous bas-reliefs on panels, representing subjects, taken principally from the ‘Ramayana,’ but many also from local legends. Each of these is separated from that next it, by a panel, with a circular medallion, containing a conventional animal, or a foliaged ornament. The bas-reliefs of the second storey are better executed, and, from their extent, more interesting; their subjects, however, seem to be all taken from local legends not yet identified. The third is ornamented by panels, with winged figures, griffons, Garudas, and flying monsters, more spirited and better executed than any similar figures are in any examples of Hindu art I am acquainted with.

According to Heer Brumund, the temple of Toempang is quite equal to this. “It is,” he says, “the most beautiful in Melang. It leaves those of Singa Sari far behind, and may be called the Boro Buddor of Melang.”[621] Unfortunately we have nothing but verbal descriptions of these temples, and of those on the mountain of Sangraham, so it is impossible to feel quite sure about their arrangement or appearance; but as those who have seen them, all describe them as similar, we must be content with this assurance till some photographer visits the place, or, what would be better, till some one goes there who is capable of making a plan and drawing and a few architectural details.

The most remarkable peculiarity of these terraced temples is that all have a well-hole in the centre of their upper platform, extending apparently to their basement. Sometimes it appears to be square, at{655}

368. Three-storeyed Terraced Temple at Panataram. (From a Photograph.)

{656}

others circular, and enlarging as it descends, being 7 ft. or 10 ft. wide at top.

Both Heer Brumund and Dr. Leemans expend a considerable amount of ingenuity in trying to explain the mystery of these well-temples.[622] Both assume that the wells were covered with pavilions or cell-temples (Kamer tempels), but without any warrant, so far as I can make out. At Panataram, for instance, the parapet of the upper terrace is a frail structure, that any man with a crowbar might destroy in a morning, or any earthquake would certainly shake down; yet neither it nor a single stone elsewhere in this temple has been displaced; but of this central pavilion not one vestige now remains, either in situ or strewn around. Besides this, a temple without a floor, and with nothing inside but a facilis descensus of 20 ft. or 30 ft., and no means revocare gradum, does not seem likely to have been popular either with priests or people, and in fact no form of worship can be suggested that would be suitable to them. Neither here nor elsewhere does there seem anything to controvert the theory that these wells were always open to the upper air.

The only suggestion that occurs to me as at all likely to meet the case is that they were Tree-temples; that a sacred tree was planted in these well-holes, either on the virgin soil, or that they were wholly or partially filled with earth and the tree planted in them. The Bo-tree at Buddh Gaya is planted on a terrace, and raised 30 ft. above the plain, ascended on one side by steps; but no excavations have been made, or at least published, which would show whether or not there were three storeys on the three other sides. The Naha Vihara at Ceylon, or the temple of the Bo-tree, is, in reality, just such a temple as that at Panataram. It is apparently in five—practically, in three—storeys, with the tree planted in a well-hole on its summit. We have, unfortunately, no plan of it or of the Javan temples; but if any one will read Captain Chapman’s description of the Maha Vihara,[623] and compare it with Heer Brumund’s of temples in Malang and Kediri, abstracted by Dr. Leemans,[624] I do not think he can fail to see the resemblance. No plan has yet been made of the Ceylonese vihara, and such photographs as exist have been taken with no higher aim than to make pretty pictures; so that it is extremely difficult to arrive at any correct notions as to its form. Meanwhile the following woodcut (No. 369), copied literally from one in Sir Emerson Tennent’s book, will convey an idea of its general appearance. The structure is wholly in brick, and its ornamentation was consequently painted{657} on plaster, which has wholly[625] disappeared, so that no means of comparison exist between the two modes of decoration. With regard to the Javanese sculptures on these temples, it is safe to assert that not one of them shows any trace of Buddhism—none even that could be called Jainism—nor any trace of the Hindu religion as now known to us. We are, for instance, perfectly familiar with the Hindu Pantheon, as illustrated by the sculptures of the nearly contemporary temple of Hullabîd (ante, p. 402); but not a trace of these gods or goddesses, nor of any of the myths there pourtrayed, is to be found in these well-temples. Whatever they are, they belong to a religion different from any whose temples we have hitherto met with in this volume, but one whose myths pervade the whole story of Indian mythology. The worship of trees seems to have been taken up in succession by the Buddhists, Jainas, and Vaishnavas, but may be earlier than either, and may, in like manner, have survived all three.

369. View of the Maha Vihara, Anuradhapura. (From Sir E. Tennent’s ‘Ceylon.’)

In India, at the present day, there is nothing so common as to see in the villages of Bengal little three-storeyed pyramids of mud—exact models of these Javan temples—on the top of which is planted the Tulsi shrub, the sacred plant of the Vaishnavas (Ocymum sanctum, or Sweet Basil), which succeeded the Ficus religiosa in the affections of the Hindus. Frequently, however, this emblem is planted in vases, or little models of ordinary temples, the top of which is hollowed out for the purpose. Numbers of these exist also in Java; but no one—at least in recent times—having visited the island who was familiar with the ordinary domestic religion of the Hindus, the{658} Dutch antiquarians have mistaken every model of a dagoba—of which thousands exist in India—and described it as a lingam, and every Tulsi vase as a Yoni. In most cases they are neither the one nor the other. Even this mistake, however, is instructive, as it shows how much of their emblems, at least, these religions interchanged in the ages of toleration. They are distinct enough now, but before A.D. 750 it is difficult to draw a line anywhere.

At Panataram there is another temple, which, if any one in the island is entitled to be called a Serpent temple, certainly merits that appellation. The Batavian Society have devoted twenty-two photographs to the illustration of its sculptures, but have given no plan and not one syllable of description. There is not even a general view from which its outline might be gathered, and no figure is introduced from which a scale might be guessed. Its date appears to be A.D. 1416. The figures, however, from which this is inferred are not on the temple itself but on a bath or tank attached to it, though, from the character of its sculptures, it is almost certainly coeval.

The reason why it is called a Serpent temple is, that the whole of the basement-moulding is made up of eight great serpents, two on each face, whose upraised heads in the centre form the side pieces of the steps that lead up to the central building, whatever that was. These serpents are not, however, our familiar seven-headed Nagas that we meet with everywhere in India and Cambodia, but more like the fierce crested serpents of Central America. The seven-headed serpent does occur very frequently among the sculptures at Boro Buddor—never independently, however, nor as an object to be worshipped, but as adorning the heads of a Naga people who come to worship Buddha or to take a part in the various scenes represented there. Even then they are very unlike the Indian Naga, whose hood is unmistakably that of an expanded cobra. Those at Boro Buddor and Panataram are crested snakes, like that represented in the Japanese woodcut in ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ page 56.

The sculptures on these monuments are not of a religious or mythological character, but either historical or domestic. What they represent may easily be ascertained, for above each scene is a short descriptive inscription, quite perfect, and in a character so modern that I fancy any scholar on the spot might easily read them. It, probably, has been done, but our good friends the Dutch are never in a hurry, and we must, consequently, wait.

Meanwhile it is curious to observe that we know of only two monuments in our whole history which are so treated, and these the earliest and the last of the great school:[626] that at Bharhut, so often alluded to above, erected two centuries before Christ; and this one,{659} erected in the 15th century, while the struggle with the Mahomedan religion was gathering around it that strength, which, within half a century from that time, finally extinguished the faith to which it belonged.

There is one other temple of this class at a place called Matjanpontih, regarding which some more information would be interesting. It is described by Heer Brumund as partly of brick, partly of stone, but singularly rich in ornamentation. “The sub-basement,” he says, “is composed of a tortoise and two serpents; the heads of these three animals unite on the west face and form the entrance.”[627]

This and many others of the description are nearly unintelligible without illustrations, but many of them seem to point to a class of Serpent temples, which, if better known, might throw considerable light on the mystery that still shrouds that form of faith in India.

Djeing Plateau.

On an elevated plateau, near the centre of the island, on the back of Mount Prahu, there exists a group of some five or six small temples. They are not remarkable either for the size or the beauty of their details, when compared with those of the buildings we have just been describing; but they are interesting to the Indian antiquary, because they are Indian temples pure and simple and dedicated to Indian gods. So far, we feel at home again; but what these temples tell us further is, that if Java got her Buddhism from Gujerat and the mouths of the Indus, she got her Hinduism from Telingana and the mouths of the Kistnah. These Djeing temples do not show a trace of the curved-lined sikras of Orissa or of the Indo-Aryan style. Had the Hindus gone to Java from the valley of the Ganges, it is almost impossible they should not have carried with them some examples of this favourite form. It is found in Burmah and Siam, but no trace of it is found anywhere in Java.

Nor are these temples Dravidian in any proper sense of the word. They are in storeys, but not with cells, nor any reminiscences of such; but they are Chalukyan, in a clear and direct meaning of the term. The building most like these Javan temples illustrated in the preceding pages is that at Buchropully (Woodcut No. 216), which would pass{660} without remark in Java if deprived of its portico. It, however, like all the Chalukyan temples we know of in India, especially in the Nizam’s territory, is subsequent to the 10th century. Most of them belong to the 13th century, and pillars may probably have been less frequently used at the time of Deva Kosuma’s visit in A.D. 816. Be this as it may, it is a remarkable fact that there is not a single pillar in Java: at least no book I have had access to, no drawing, and no photograph gives a hint of the existence of even one pillar in the island. When we think of the thousands that were employed by the Dravidians in the south of India, and the Jains in the north-west, it is curious they escaped being introduced here. The early style of Orissa, as mentioned above, is nearly astylar; but in Java this is absolutely so, and, so far as I know, is the only important style in the world of which this can be predicated. What is not so curious, but is also interesting, is, that there is not a true arch in the whole island. In the previous pages, the Hindu horror of an arch has often been alluded to; but then they frequently got out of the difficulty by the use of wood or iron. There is no trace of the use of these materials in the island, and no peculiarly Javan feature can be traced to a wooden original. All is in stone, but without either the pillars or the arches which make up nine-tenths of the constructive expedients of the mediæval architects, and figure so largely in all the western styles of architectural art.

It may also be mentioned here, while describing the negative characteristics of Javan art, that no mortar is ever used as a cement in these temples. It is not that they were ignorant of the use of lime, for many of their buildings are plastered and painted on the plaster, but it was never employed to give strength to construction. It is owing to this that so many of their buildings are in so ruinous a state. In an island where earthquakes are frequent, a very little shake reduces a tall temple to a formless heap in a few seconds. If cemented, they might have been cracked, but not so utterly ruined as they now are.[628]

Be this as it may, the Javan style of architecture is probably the only one of which it can be said that it reached a high degree of perfection without using either pillars, or arches, or mortar in any of its buildings.

Suku.

At a place called Suku, not far from Mount Lawu near the centre of the island, there is a group of temples, which, when properly illustrated, promises to be of great importance to the history of architecture in Java.[629] They are among the most modern examples of the style,{661} having dates upon them of A.D. 1435 and A.D. 1440,[630] or less than forty years before the destruction of Majapahit and the abolition of the Hindu religion of Java. So far as can be made out, they are coarser and more vulgar in execution than any of those hitherto described, and belonged to a degraded form of the Vaishnava religion. Garuda is the most prominent figure among the sculptures; but there is also the tortoise, the boar, and other figures that belong to that religion. The sculptures, too, are said, many of them, to be indecent, which is only too characteristic a feature of Vishnuism.[631]

The most interesting feature connected with the remains at Suku, as well as of all the later buildings in Java, is their extraordinary likeness to the contemporary edifices in Yucatan, and Mexico. It may be only accidental, but it is unmistakable. No one, probably, who is at all familiar with the remains found in the two provinces, can fail to observe it, though no one has yet suggested any hypothesis to account for it. When we look at the vast expanse of ocean that stretches between Java and Central America, it seems impossible to conceive that any migration can have taken place eastward—say after the 10th century—that could have influenced the arts of the Americans; or, if it had taken place, that the Javans would not have taught them the use of alphabetical writing, and of many arts they cultivated, but of which the Americans were ignorant when discovered by the Spaniards. It seems equally improbable or impossible that any colonists from America could have planted themselves in Java so as to influence the arts of the people. But there is a third supposition that may be possible, and, if so, may account for the observed facts. It is possible that the building races of Central America are of the same family as the native inhabitants of Java. Many circumstances lead to the belief that the inhabitants of Easter Island belong to the same stock,[632] and, if this is so, it is evident that distance is no bar to the connexion. If this hypothesis may be admitted, the history of the connexion would be this:—The Javans were first taught to build monumental edifices by immigrants from India, and we know that their first were their finest and also the most purely Indian. During the next five centuries (A.D. 650-1150) we can watch the Indian influence dying out; and during the next three (A.D. 1150-{662}1450) a native local style developing itself, which resulted at last in the quasi-American examples at Panataram and Suku. It may have been that it was the blood and the old faith and feelings of these two long dissevered branches of one original race that came again to the surface, and produced like effects in far distant lands. If this or something like it were not the cause of the similarity, it must have been accidental, and, if so, is almost the only instance of its class known to exist anywhere; and, strangely enough, the only other example that occurs is in respect to the likeness that is unmistakable between certain Peruvian buildings and the Pelasgic remains of Italy and Greece. These, however, are even more remote in date and locality, so the subject must remain in its present uncertainty till some fresh discovery throws new light upon it.

This, however, is not the place, even if space were available, to attempt to investigate and settle such questions; but it is well to broach them even here, for, unless attention is directed to the subject, the phænomena are not observed with that intelligent care which is indispensable for the elucidation of so difficult a problem.

The above is, it must be confessed, only a meagre outline of what might be made one of the most interesting and important chapters in the History of Indian Architecture. To do it justice, however, it would require at least 100 illustrations and 200 pages of text, which would swell this work beyond the dimensions within which it seems at present expedient to restrict it. Even, however, were it determined to attempt this, the materials do not exist in Europe for performing it in a satisfactory manner. We know all we want, or are ever likely to know, about Boro Buddor and one or two other monuments, but with regard to most of the others our information is most fragmentary, and in respect to some, absolutely deficient. Any qualified person might, by a six months’ tour in the island, so co-ordinate all this as to supply the deficiencies to such an extent as to be able to write a full and satisfactory History of Architecture in Java. But it is not probable that the necessary information for this purpose will be available in Europe for some years to come, and it may be many—very many—unless the work is undertaken on a more systematic plan than has hitherto been the case. Both in this island and in Ceylon the intentions have been good, but the performance disappointing and unsatisfactory. The Dutch have, however, far outstripped our colonial authorities, not only in the care of their monuments, but in the extent to which they have published them. It is only to be hoped that a wholesome rivalry will, before long, render the architectural productions of both islands available for the purposes of scientific research.{663}

## CHAPTER IV.
CAMBODIA.

CONTENTS.

Introductory—Temples of Nakhon Wat, Ongcor Thom, Paten ta Phrohm, &c.

Introductory.

Since the exhumation of the buried cities of Assyria by Mons. Botta and Mr. Layard nothing has occurred so startling, or which has thrown so much light on Eastern art, as the discovery of the ruined cities of Cambodia. Historically, they are infinitely less important to us than the ruins of Nimroud and Nineveh; but, in an architectural point of view, they are more astonishing; and, for the elucidation of certain Indian problems, it seems impossible to overrate their importance.

The first European who visited these ruins in modern times was M. Mouhot, a French naturalist, who devoted the last four years of his life (1858-1861) to the exploration of the valleys of the Mekong and Menam rivers. Though the primary object of his travels was to investigate the natural productions of the country, he seems to have been so struck with the ruins of Ongcor Wat that he not only sketched and made plans of them, but wrote descriptions of all the principal buildings. Unfortunately for science and art he never returned to Europe, being struck down by fever while prosecuting his researches in the northern part of the country; and, though his notes have been published both in this country[633] and in France, they were not prepared for publication by himself, and want the explanatory touches which only an author can give to his own work. Though his melancholy death prevented M. Mouhot from obtaining all the credit he was entitled to for his discovery, it has borne rich fruit as far as the public are concerned.

The next person who visited these ruins was the very learned Dr. Adolph Bastian;[634] who has written a most recondite but most unsatisfactory work on the Indo-Chinese nations, in five volumes.{664} He has also written an account of the ruins in the ‘Journal of the Royal Geographical Society’ (Vol. xxxv.), and four papers in the ‘Ausland’ (Nos. 47-50). It is impossible to find out from all these whether Dr. Bastian has satisfied himself who built these temples, what their age is, or to what worship they are dedicated. If he does know anything about these matters, he has carefully concealed it from the uninitiated, under a confused mass of undigested learning that it is impossible to fathom.

His visit to these ruins was followed by that of Mr. J. Thomson, a professional photographer at Singapore, who, at considerable expense and risk, carried his photographic apparatus to the spot, and brought away a plan of the great temple of Nakhon Wat, with some thirty photographs of it, besides views of other places in the neighbourhood.

Since that time the French have sent two thoroughly well equipped expeditions to the place: the first under a Captain Doudart de la Grée in 1866, the second in 1873. As the main object of the first was the exploration of the Mekong river, they were able to devote only a portion of their time to antiquarian researches, and the unfortunate death of their chief on the frontiers of China prevented his ever working out his results to the extent he no doubt would have done had he lived to return home. They were, however, published as he left them, by Lieutenant J. Garnier, the second in command of the expedition, with notes and additions of his own.[635]

As they, however, could not complete the investigation, a second expedition was fitted out, under Captain Delaporte, who had taken part in the previous expedition.

They returned to France in 1874, bringing with them not only detailed plans of most of the temples, but copies of nearly all the inscriptions they could find, and a large collection of antiquities and casts. The latter are now arranged in the Château of Compiègne, and accessible to the public. The drawings and inscriptions are in course of publication, and, when available, they will supply materials from which we may reason with confidence, not only as to the arts but as to the history of this wonderful people.[636] At present we are{665} hardly in a position to do so. What has hitherto been collected has been got together in too fragmentary a manner, and it has not yet gone through the sifting process which is indispensable before it is possible to separate the wheat from the chaff.

In addition to these sources of information there is a most interesting account, written by a Chinese traveller, who spent two years in the country when the kingdom was in its most flourishing state, between the years 1295-97. He was a Buddhist, and, like his predecessors in India, Fa Hian and Hiouen Thsang, sees things a little too much through Buddhist spectacles; but, with this slight defect, nothing can be more graphic than his account of the country and the people.[637]

There are also two papers, by Col. James Low, in the ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal’ (Vol. xvii.), which are replete with traditional information extracted from Siamese books.

The first assertion in the traditions of the Cambodians, as gathered by Dr. Bastian, is sufficiently startling. “In the country of Rome or Romaveisei, not far from Takkhasinla (Taxila), reigned a great and wise king. His son, the Vice King—Phra Thong by name—having done wrong, was banished, and, after many adventures, settled in Cambodia,” &c.[638] The time is not indicated, but we gather from the context that it must have been about the 4th century. It may, at first sight, look like catching at a nominal similarity, but the troubles which took place in Kashmir in the reign of Tungina, and generally in western India about the year 319, look so like what is recorded further east, that, at present, that seems the most probable date for the migration, assuming it to have taken place. Many would be inclined to doubt the possibility of any communication between the two countries; but it must be borne in mind, that the country around Taxila in ancient times was called Camboja; that it was the head-quarters of Serpent-worship; that the architecture of Kashmir bears very considerable resemblance to that of Cambodia; while there is a general consent that the Cambodians came from India. If this were so, it seems certain that it was not from the east coast that they migrated. As pointed out above, the Indians who introduced Buddhism and Buddhist architecture into Java went there from Gujerat or the countries on the west coast. This hardly seems doubtful, and there is{666} no greater improbability of a migration from the Indus to Cambodia than of one from Gujerat to Java.

Ceylon was always addicted to Snake-worship, and may have formed a half-way house. On the other hand, it is by no means improbable that the communication may have taken place behind the Himalayas; in fact, that the religion of the two countries was derived from some common centre in Northern Asia.

All this will require careful elaboration hereafter, in some place where it can be more fully treated than is possible here. All that is wanted now is to insist on the fact that there must have been a connexion between the two countries, and that the traditions of Cambodia point to Taxila as their parent seat.

For six centuries from this time we have nothing but stories of dragon-kings and their beautiful but troublesome daughters; of the treasures and relics they guarded; and of the spells and enchantments which were had recourse to to vanquish and rob them. All this is common to all the nations between Cambodia and the North Cape of Norway, but does not concern us here.

At last we come to a fact. “In the year 957 Inthapathapuri was founded by King Pathummasurivong.”[639] In the same manner as the name of the old capital of Siam was the mispronunciation of Ayodhya, so this is only the Cambodian way of spelling Indraprastha, or the old Delhi of the ‘Mahabharata.’

Leaping over the intermediate space from this initial date we have a final one in the conquest of the country by the Siamese (A.D. 1351-1374), after which time the old capital was deserted, and no more temples were erected there. Our architectural history is thus confined to the four centuries which elapsed between 951 and 1357. For the first three of these, at least, Nakhon[640] Thom—the Great City—was the capital. About the middle, however, of the 13th century, the king was afflicted with leprosy “because he had forsaken the Snake-worship of his forefathers,” and taken to the Brahmanical or Buddhist heresy, it is not quite clear which; and the capital was then transferred to a site some fifteen miles further east, and a city built, known as Paten ta Phrohm (the City of Brahma?).

Meanwhile we have at least three centuries during which Naga-worship prevailed—giving rise to the erection of a series of temples as large and as richly ornamented as any to be found in any other part of the world. The last of these—that known as Nakhon Wat—was, if not the greatest, at least the best from an architectural point of view, and is the only one of which we have at present sufficient information to speak with confidence.{667}

From the little we know of the others it does not seem that there would be any difficulty in arranging them all in a chronological series, from the gradations of style they exhibit; nor of ascertaining their dates, since they are covered with inscriptions in a character that could be read without serious trouble; and these probably contain the names of the kings, which would enable this to be done, approximatively at least, even if there should be no dates.

The buildings of Paten ta Phrohm (the Brahmanical) are of a much more varied but less perfect style. They seem, from the descriptions of M. Mouhot and Dr. Bastian, to be Buddhist, Jaina, or Hindu, or all these styles mixed up together as in Java. In fact, they seem very much to resemble the buildings in that island, and their date is about the same, omitting only the Buddhist series, which does not seem to occur here; but, as no detailed drawings or good photographs of them have yet been published, there is very little to be said about them now. For the present our attention must be principally confined to the city of Ongcor—or Ongon, as it is popularly named, but more correctly known as Nakhon Thom—the great city—and especially to the suburban monastery of Nakhon Wat.

It is now not difficult to point out the situation of this city, as the lake near which it is situated and the hills that approach it have generally now found their way into most atlases. Generally it may be said that about half-way between the great rivers of Siam and Cambodia is a lake, the Tali Sab, about 120 miles long, and varying in width from 30 to 60. In the dry weather its average depth is only 4 ft., but in the rains it is fed by the Mekong, of which it is a backwater, and rises 30 ft. or 40 ft. more, so that it is easily navigable for large boats. At a little distance from the northern shore of this lake, in 103° 50´ East longitude and 13° 30´ North latitude, the ruins are to be found, situated in a great plain extending some fifty miles in width between the lake and the hills on its northern boundary.[641]

Temple of Nakhon Wat.

The temple of Nakhon Wat, literally “the temple of the city,” or “of the capital,” as it is now called by the Siamese, is situated in a sandy plain, about four miles to the southward of the city of Ongcor itself, and between it and the lake Tali Sab. As will be seen from the small plan (figure 2, Woodcut No. 370) it is almost an exact square, and measures nearly an English mile each way. The walled{668}

370. Plan of Temple of Nakhon Wat. (From a Survey by Mr. J. Thomson.) Scale 155 ft. to 1 in.

{669}

enclosure of the temple measures 1080 yards by 1100, and is surrounded by a moat or ditch 230 yards wide. The moat is crossed on the west by a splendid causeway, adorned by pillars on either side. This leads to the great gateway, not unlike the gopura of a Dravidian temple, five storeys in height, but extended by lateral galleries and towers to a façade more than 600 ft. in extent. Within this a second raised causeway, 370 yards long, leads to a cruciform platform in front of the temple (shown in figure 1, Woodcut No. 370). On either side of this, about half-way down, is a detached temple, which anywhere else would be considered of importance, but here may be passed over.

The general plan of the temple will be understood from the woodcut (No. 370). It consists of three enclosures, one within the other, each raised from 15 ft. to 20 ft. above the level of that outside it, so as to give the whole a pyramidal form. The outer enclosure measures 570 ft. by 650 ft., and covers, therefore, about 370,000 sq. ft. The great temple at Karnac (Thebes) covers 430,000 sq. ft. There are three portals, adorned with towers on each face, and on either side of these are open galleries or verandahs, which, with their bas-reliefs, are probably the most remarkable features of this temple. Their external appearance will be understood from the Woodcut No. 373; that of the interior from Woodcut No. 374; though these illustrations are on too small a scale to do justice to their magnificence.

Its appearance in elevation may be gathered from Woodcut No. 371, which shows it to be a pyramid more than 600 ft. in breadth across its shortest width north and south, and rising to 180 ft. at the summit of the central tower. It is, consequently, both larger and higher than Boro Buddor, and notwithstanding the extraordinary elaboration of that temple it is probably surpassed by this one, both in the extent of its ornamentation as well as in the delicacy of its carvings. There may have been as much, or nearly as much, labour bestowed on the colonnades at Ramisseram as on this temple; but otherwise the Indian example cannot compare with either of these two. It has literally no outline, and practically no design; while both Nakhon Wat and Boro Buddor are as remarkable for their architectural designs as for their sculptural decorations.

The mechanical arrangements of the galleries or colonnades above referred to are as perfect as their artistic design. These will be understood from the diagram, Woodcut No. 372. On one side is a solid wall of the most exquisite masonry, supporting the inner terrace of the temple. It is built of large stones without cement, and so beautifully fitted that it is difficult to detect the joints between two stones. At a distance of 10 ft. 6 in. in front of this stands a range of square piers, very much in the proportion of the Roman Doric order, with{670} capitals also similar to the classical examples, but more ornamented. These pillars have no bases, but on each face is carved a figure of a devotee or worshipper, surmounted by a canopy of incised ornament, which is also carried along the edge of the shafts. The pillars carry an architrave and a deep frieze, which, in the inner part of the temple, is ornamented with bas-reliefs of the most elaborate character, and above this is a cornice of very classical outline. Above the cornices is a pointed arch, not formed with voussoirs, but of stones projecting one beyond the other, as with the old Pelasgi and the Indians to the present day. This is quite plain, and was probably originally intended to be hidden by a wooden ceiling, as indicated in the diagram; at least, Mr. Thomson discovered the mortises which were intended to secure some such adornment, and in one place the remains of a teak-wood ceiling beautifully and elaborately carved.

371. Elevation of the Temple of Nakhon Wat. (From a drawing by Lieutenant Garnier.)

Outside this gallery, as shown in the Woodcuts Nos. 372, 373, is a second, supported by shorter pillars, with{671}

372. Diagram Section of Corridor, Nakhon Wat.

373. View of Exterior of Nakhon Wat. (From a Photograph by Mr. J. Thomson.)

both base and capital. This outer range supports what may be called a tie-beam, the one end of which is inserted into the inner column just below the capital. So beautifully, however, is this fitted that M. Mouhot asserts the inner columns are monoliths, and, like the other joints of the masonry, the junction cannot be detected even in the photograph unless pointed out. The beauty of this arrangement will at once strike anyone who knows how difficult it is to keep the sun out and let in the light and air, so indispensable in that climate. The British have tried to effect it in India for 100 years, but never hit on anything either so artistic or convenient as this. It is, in fact, the{672} solution of a problem over which we might have puzzled for centuries, but which the Cambodians resolved instinctively. The exterior cornice here, as throughout the temple, is composed of infinite repetitions of the seven-headed snake.

374. View of Interior of Corridor, Nakhon Wat. (From a Photograph by Mr. J. Thomson.)

The most wonderful parts, however, of these colonnades of Nakhon Wat, are the sculptures that adorn their walls, rather than the architecture that shelters them. These are distributed in eight compartments, one on each side of the four central groups of entrances, measuring each from 250 ft. to 300 ft. in length, with a height of about 6½ ft. Their aggregate length is thus at least 2000 ft., and assuming the parts photographed to be a fair average, the number of men and animals represented extends from 18,000 to 20,000. The relief is so low that in the photograph it looks at first sight as if incised—intagliato—like the Egyptian sculptures; but this is not the case. Generally speaking, these reliefs represent battle-scenes of the most{673} animated description, taken from the ‘Ramayana,’ or ‘Mahabharata,’ which the immigrants either brought with them, or, as the Siamese annals say, received from India in the 4th or 5th century. These, Pathammasurivong, the founder of the city, caused to be translated into Cambodian, with considerable variations, and here they are sculptured almost in extenso.[642]

One bas-relief, however, is occupied by a different subject—popularly supposed to represent heaven, earth, and hell. Above is a procession so closely resembling those in Egyptian temples as to be startling. The king is borne in a palanquin very like those seen in the sculptures on the banks of the Nile, and accompanied by standards and emblems which go far to complete the illusion. In the middle row sits a judge, with a numerous body of assessors, and the condemned are thrown down to a lower region, where they are represented as tortured in all the modes which Eastern ingenuity has devised. It is not clear, however, that this is a theological hell; it seems more probable that it represents the mode in which the Indian immigrants “improved” the natives. One subject alone can be called mythological, and it wears an old familiar face; it represents the second Avatar of Vishnu, the world-supporting tortoise, and the churning of the ocean with the great snake Naga. No legend in Hindu mythology could be more appropriate for a snake-temple; but, notwithstanding this, it is out of place, and I cannot help fancying that it was his choice of this subject that gave rise to the tradition that the king was afflicted with leprosy because he had deserted the faith of his forefathers. This relief is evidently the last attempted, and still remains unfinished.

The only other temples that I am aware of where sculpture is used in anything like the same profusion are those at Boro Buddor in Java and that at Hullabîd, described above, page 401. In the Indian example, however, the principles on which it is employed are diametrically opposed to those in vogue in Cambodia. There all the sculptures are in high relief, many of the figures standing free, and all are essential parts of the architecture—are, in fact, the architecture itself. Here, however, the two arts are kept quite distinct and independent, each mutually aiding the other, but each perfect by itself, and separate in its aim. The Gothic architects attempted to incorporate their sculpture with the architecture in the same manner as the Indian architects. The Greeks, on the contrary, kept them distinct; they provided a plain wall outside the cella of the temple for their paintings and sculpture, and protected it by screens of columns precisely as the Cambodians did; and it is difficult to say which was the best principle. A critic imbued with the feelings of{674} mediæval art would side with the Indians; but if the Greeks were correct in their principle, so certainly were the Cambodians.

Leaving these outer peristyles for the present, and entering by the west door, we find ourselves in an ante-naos measuring 180 ft. by 150 ft., supported by more than 100 columns, and lighted by four small courts open to the sky above; but the floors, as in all Naga temples, are tanks or reservoirs for water. The whole of this part is arranged most artistically, so as to obtain the most varied and picturesque effects, and is as well worthy of study as any part of the temple. Beyond this, on either hand, is a detached temple, similar in plan to those that stand on either side of the causeway, half-way between the entrance and the temple.

Ascending from this we enter the middle court, in the centre of which stands what may be considered as the temple itself. It measures 200 ft. by 213 ft., and is crowned by five towers or spires, one on each angle, and one, taller than the others, in the centre, rising to a height of 180 ft. The central tower has four cells, like that at Sadri, one facing each way. The general appearance of these towers may be gathered from the elevation (Woodcut No. 371), and from Woodcut No. 375. They are very Indian in character and outline, but, when looked closely into, are unlike anything known in that country. The building which resembles the inner temple most, so far as at present known, is that at Sadri (Woodcut No. 133). Its dimensions are nearly the same, 200 ft. by 225 ft.; like this, it has five spires similarly disposed, and four open courts; and at Sadri, as here, there are a certain number of snake-images, which suggest a connexion between the two. But there the similarity ceases. The extraordinary amount of richness and exuberance of detail in the Cambodian temple far surpasses that of the Indian example; and the courts at Nakhon Wat are not courts but water-tanks. How far the lower courts were also capable of being flooded is not clear, nor whether the whole area, 1100 yards square, in which the temple stands, was not also capable of being turned into a lake.[643] Judging from the analogy of the Kashmiri temples, it would seem probable that this may have been the case. If it were, it is difficult to conceive a more fairy-like scene than this temple would have presented, rising from the lake which reflected its forms in the calm stillness of a tropical sunset.

One of the most curious circumstances connected with the architecture of this temple is, that all its pillars are as essentially of the Roman Doric order, as those of Kashmir are of the Grecian Doric.{675}

375. General View of Temple of Nakhon Wat. (From a Photograph by Mr. J. Thomson.)

Even if this is disputed, one thing at least is certain, that no such pillars occur anywhere in India. At Nakhon Wat there is not a single bracket-capital nor an Indian base. The pillars nowhere change into octagons or polygons of sixteen or thirty-two sides,[644] and all the entablatures are as unlike Indian forms as can well be conceived. At{676} Nakhon Wat, also, there are intersecting vaults and ingenious roofing-contrivances of all sorts, but no dome, and no hint that the architects were aware of the existence of such a form. On the contrary, take such a pillar as that shown in Woodcut No. 376: the proportion of diameter to height; the entasis; the proportion between the upper and lower diameter; the capital with its abacus; the base with its plinth; the architrave, &c., are so like the Roman order that it is difficult to conceive the likeness being accidental.

But whoever gave the design for these pillars—and, according to M. Mouhot, there are 1532 of them in this single building—we have abundant evidence to show that the people for whom it was erected were of pure Turanian blood. Without insisting on other facts, there are in every part of the building groups of female figures in alto-relievo. They are sometimes in niches or in pairs, as in the Woodcut No. 377, attached to pilasters, or in groups of four or more. There are a hundred or more in various parts of the building, and all have the thick lips and the flat noses of true Tartars, their eyes forming an angle with one another like those of the Egyptians, or any other of the true building-races of the world. Unfortunately, no statues of men are so attached, though there are several free-standing figures which tell the same tale. The bas-reliefs do not help in the inquiry, as the artist has taken pains to distinguish carefully the ethnographic peculiarities of all the nations represented, and, till the inscriptions are read, and we know who are intended for Indians or who for Chinese or Cambodians, we cannot use the evidence they supply.

376. Pillar of Porch, Nakhon Wat.

(From a Photograph by Mr. J. Thomson.)

It is a well-known fact that, wherever Serpent-worship prevailed in any part of the world, it was the custom to devote the most beautiful young girls to the service of the temple. This would not only account for these numerous female statues, but their presence affords a hint of the worship to which it was dedicated. This, however, is not required; for, though the god is gone, and the Buddhists have taken possession of the temple, everywhere the Snake-god appears. Every angle of every roof is adorned with an image of the seven-headed snake, and there are hundreds of them; every cornice is{677} composed of snakes’ heads; every convolution of the roofs, and there are thousands, terminates in a five or seven-headed snake. The balustrades are snakes, and the ridge of every roof was apparently adorned with gilt dragons. These being in metal, have disappeared, but the holes into which they were fixed can still be seen on every ridge.

There is no image in the sanctuary, of course, because it is the peculiarity of this religion that the god is a living god, and dies, or is eaten up by his fellow divinities, so that no trace of him remains. But, beyond all this, the water-arrangements which pervade every part of the great temple are such as belong to the worship of the Serpent, and to that only.

377. Lower Part of Pilaster, Nakhon Wat. (From a Photograph by Mr. F. J. Thomson.)

At present this temple has been taken possession of by Siamese bonzes, who have dedicated it to the worship of Buddha. They have introduced images of him into the sanctuaries and other places, and, with the usual incuriousness of people of their class, assert that it was always so; while, unfortunately, no one who has yet visited the place has been so familiar with Buddhist architecture as to be able to contradict them. If, however, there is one thing more certain than another{678} in this history, it is that Nakhon Wat was not originally erected by Buddhists or for Buddhist purposes. In the first place, there is no sign of a dagoba or of a vihara, or of a chaitya hall in the whole building, nor anything that can be called a reminiscence of any feature of Buddhist architecture. More than this, there is no trace of Buddha, of any scene from his life, or from the jatakas to be found among the sculptures. In former days it might be excusable to doubt this; but it is not so now that any man may make himself familiar with the sculptures at Bharhut, at Sanchi, or Amravati, or with those from the Gandhara monasteries or at Boro Buddor. It is just as easy to recognise a Buddhist scene or legend in these representations, as it is to identify a Christian scene in the Arena chapel at Padua, or at Monreale near Palermo. What may hereafter turn up I do not know, but meanwhile I most unhesitatingly assert that there is not a trace of Buddhism in any of the bas-reliefs yet brought to light from Nakhon Wat, nor an integral statue of Buddha or of any Buddhist saint about the place.

I am, of course, aware that there are traditions of Asoka having sent missionaries there, and of Buddhaghosha having visited the place,[645] but they are the merest of traditions, imported, apparently, from Siam, and resting on no authenticated basis. Had Buddhists ever come here en masse, or the country ever been converted to that religion, as was the case in Java, it seems impossible the fact should not be observable in the buildings. But there seems no trace of it there. There is no Eastern country, in fact, where that religion seems to have been so little known in ancient times. The testimony of the Chinese traveller, who visited the country in A.D. 1295,[646] is sufficient to prove it did exist in his time; but, like his predecessors Fa Hian and Hiouen Thsang, he saw his own faith everywhere, and, with true Chinese superciliousness, saw no other religion anywhere.

So far as can be at present ascertained, it seems as if the migrations of the Indians to Java and to Cambodia took place about the same time and from the same quarter; but with this remarkable difference: they went en masse to Java, and found a tabula rasa—a people, it may be, numerous, but without arts or religion, and they implanted there their own with very slight modifications. In Cambodia the country must have been more civilized, and had a religion, if not an art. The Indians seem slowly, and only to a limited extent, to have been able to modify their religion towards{679} Hinduism, probably because it was identical, or at least sympathetic; but they certainly endowed the Cambodians with an art which we have no reason to suppose they before possessed. Now that we know to what an extent classical art prevailed in the country these Indians are reputed to have come from, and to how late a date that art continued to be practised in the north-west, we are no longer puzzled to understand the prevalence of classical details in this temple; but to work out the connexion in all its variations is one of the most interesting problems that remain to exercise the ingenuity of future explorers.

Baion.

There is a temple within the city walls which, when as well known, may prove to be a grander and more splendid temple than Nakhon Wat itself. When Mr. Thomson visited the place, it was so overgrown with jungle that he could not make out its plan or even count its towers. Garnier could only form a diagram of its plan (plate 21), but he gave two views—one a woodcut in the text (page 67), the other a lithograph in his atlas. It is understood, however, that M. Delaporte has cleared out the place, and made careful plans and drawings of the whole, so that in a short time we may expect to know all about it. It is a rectangle, measuring about 400 ft. by 433 ft., and its general appearance may be gathered by imagining the effect of Nakhon Wat with fifty-two towers instead of nine, and the whole perhaps more richly and elaborately ornamented than even that temple. It certainly appears to be older—probably it belongs to the 11th or 12th century; and its sculptures are consequently better in execution, though whether they are equal in design we have yet to learn.

The most remarkable feature in the design is, that each of the towers is adorned by four great masks. One of the smaller of these is shown in the next woodcut (No. 378), and gives an idea of the style of their decorations, but cannot of the larger towers, nor of the effect of a great number of them grouped together, and dominated by one in the centre 60 ft. in diameter, and of proportionate height.

The question still remains, to what deity, or for what form of worship, was this strange temple erected? We know of nothing like it elsewhere. It certainly is not Buddhist, nor Jaina, nor, so far as known, is it Hindu. Neither Siva nor Vishnu, nor any of the familiar gods of that Pantheon, appear anywhere. It may turn out to be otherwise, but at present there seems no escape from the hypothesis that it was dedicated to Brahma. We have no temple belonging to this god in India Proper, but he does appear with the other two in sculptures at Hullabîd, and in other places, completing the trinity. His images are found much more frequently in Java than in India, though I am{680} not aware that any temple has yet been found in the island dedicated to him. In Cambodia, however, he plays a most important part in all the local traditions. When, for instance, the sovereign who married the Snake-king’s daughter got tired of his father-in-law, he set up an image of the four-faced Brahma over the gates of the city, which so terrified the old man that he fled to his dark abode cursing his ungrateful children. Such an image does still exist over the principal gate of the city; but the Chinese traveller, who visited the place in 1295,[647] calls it a five-faced image of Buddha! The traveller was a Buddhist, and, as before mentioned, saw his own religion everywhere, and that only in every temple and in every place.

378. One of the Towers of the Temple at Ongcor Thom. (From a Photograph by Mr. J. Thomson.)

All the traditions collected by Bastian, and the numerous images of Ta Phrohm or Brahma found by the French at Mount Kromi and elsewhere, fully bear out this assignment of the temple to Brahma.{681} But if it should eventually prove to be correct, what a wide door it opens for speculation, and what a flood of light it would throw on many questions that are now perplexing us. Is it that a worship of Brahma really existed in the north-west, in the original seats of the immigrant races before they passed into India, and that it was left to vegetate there while the settlers adopted the more fashionable religious of Siva and Vishnu in the countries of their adoption? If this were so, a later migration may have taken place by a northern route through Yunan, taking with them the older form of the faith and planting it in this far-off land.

It was not by accident that the knowledge either of Brahma or of these strangely classical forms of art were imported into this country. We cannot yet explain how all this happened, but we see enough to feel sure that in a very few years the solution will be possible—perhaps easy. It would indeed be a triumph if we could track Brahma back to the cave where he has been so long hidden, and connect his worship with some of the known religions of the world.

Rather more than a mile to the eastward of the city is another first-class temple, called Ta Proum, or Paten ta Phrohm, the residence of Phrohm or Brahma.[648] It is a square, measuring about 400 ft. each way, and, so far as can be made out from M. Mouhot’s plan, was of the same class as Nakhon Wat; but, as Lieutenant Garnier says, it is so ruined that its plan can hardly be made out,[649] and it is so choked with vegetation, that in a few years not one stone of it will remain upon another.

About twenty miles further eastward is another temple of the same class, but much more perfect, called Melea, and at seventy miles a third, called Preacan. These were only imperfectly explored by the first French expedition, but have been thoroughly investigated by the second,[650] and we may hope soon to have plans and all the details necessary to enable us to speak with confidence with regard to this curious but most interesting group of temples. They are evidently very numerous, and all most elaborately adorned, and, it need hardly be added, very unlike anything we have met with in any part of India described in the previous chapters of this work. They certainly are neither Buddhist, Jaina, nor Hindu, in any sense in which we have hitherto understood these terms, and they as certainly are not residences or buildings used for any civil purposes. It is possible that, when we become acquainted with the ancient architecture of Yunan, or the provinces of Central and Western China, we may get some hints as to their origin. At present I am inclined to look{682} further north and further west for the solution of the riddle; but, till we are in possession of the results of the French expedition, it is premature to speculate.

These great galleried temples may be considered as the most typical, as they certainly are the most magnificent, of the temples of the Cambodians; but, besides these, there are ten or twelve great temples in Ongcor Thom and its neighbourhood, which anywhere else would be considered worthy of attention. Of these, one at Mount Bakeng, to the south of the city, is a five-storeyed pyramid, with sixty small pavilions on its steps, and a platform on its summit, which is now only encumbered with some débris; but whether they are the remains of a Sikra, or whether it was a well-temple like those in Java, is by no means clear.

To the east of the city is another somewhat similar—a pyramid, with three storeys, rising to a height of about 50 ft. It, however, is enclosed in a gallery, measuring 250 ft. each way, and seems to have had five pavilions on its summit.[651]

The other temples are not of such magnificence as to justify their being described here; their interest would be great in a monograph of the style, but, without illustrations, their dimensions, coupled with their unfamiliar names, would convey very little information to the reader.[652]

Civil Architecture.

The palaces and public buildings of Ongcor seem to be quite worthy of its temples, either as regards extent or richness of decoration. They are, however, as might be expected, in a more ruinous state; being less monumental in their mode of construction, and, what is more to our present purpose, they have neither been drawn nor photographed to such an extent as to render them intelligible.

A view of one of the gates of Ongcor Thom is given by Lieutenant Garnier, Plate 8; and as it is as remarkable as anything about the place, it is to be hoped that full details will be brought home by the present expedition. Fortunately, it is the gateway described by{683} the Chinese visitor, in 1295,[653] as at the end of the great bridge, which was, and is, adorned by fifty-two giants, bearing on their arms the great seven-headed Naga that formed the parapet of the bridge.

On each side of the gate are three elephants, and on each angle the head of a great seven-headed Naga. Above these are figures of men and women, but the great feature is the four-faced mask of Brahma, as on the spires of the Baion (Woodcut No. 378). The details of the upper part also so far resemble those of that temple that they must be nearly the same age. This, therefore, cannot well be the four-faced figure of Brahma, which his ungrateful children set up to frighten their parent when they were tired of him (ante, page 680); but it is curious to find the legend repeated in stone and standing at this day. It may, however, be that the stone gave rise to the legend; but, whichever way it arose, it is equally interesting as material evidences of a history and of a religion of which, up to this time, we know little or nothing.

The walls of the cities were also of very great extent, and of dimensions commensurate with their importance. They seem generally to have been constructed of a coarse ferruginous stone in large blocks, and only the gates and ornamental parts were of the fine-grained sandstone of which the temples and palaces are built. Wonderful as these temples and palaces are, the circumstance that, perhaps, after all gives the highest idea of the civilization of these ancient Cambodians is the perfection of their roads and bridges. One great trunk road seems to have stretched for 300 miles across the country from Korat, in a south-easterly direction, to the Mekong river. It was a raised causeway, paved throughout like a Roman road, and every stream that it crossed was spanned by a bridge, many of which remain perfect to the present day. Dr. Bastian describes two of these: one, 400 ft. in length, and 50 ft. in breadth, richly ornamented by balustrades and cornices, and representations of snakes and the Snake king.[654] The extraordinary thing is, that it is constructed without radiating arches, but like every structure in the place, by a system of bracketing or horizontal arches, and without cement. Yet it has withstood, for five centuries at least, the violence of the tropical torrent which it spans.

Even if no vestiges of these roads or bridges remained, the sculptures of Nakhon Wat are sufficient to prove the state of perfection which the art of transport had reached in this community. In these there are numerous representations of chariots, all with wheels from 3 ft. to 5 ft. in height, and with sixteen spokes, which must be of{684} metal, for no London coachmaker at the present day could frame anything so delicate in wood. The rims, too, are in metal, and, apparently, the wheel turns on the axle. Those who are aware how difficult a problem it is to make a perfect wheel will appreciate how much is involved in such a perfect solution of the problem as is here found. But it requires a knowledge of the clumsiness of the Romans and our mediæval forefathers in this respect, and the utter barbarism of the wheels represented in Indian sculptures and still used in India, to feel fully its importance as an index of high civilization.

If, however, the Cambodians were the only people who before the 13th century made such wheels as these, it is also probably true that their architects were the only ones who had sufficient mechanical skill to construct their roofs wholly of hewn stone, without the aid either of wood or concrete, and who could dovetail and join them so beautifully that they remain watertight and perfect after five centuries of neglect in a tropical climate. Nothing can exceed the skill and ingenuity with which the stones of the roofs are joggled and fitted into one another, unless it is the skill with which the joints of their plain walls are so polished and so evenly laid without cement of any kind. It is difficult to detect their joints even in a sun-picture, which generally reveals flaws not to be detected by the eye. Except in the works of the old pyramid-building Egyptians, I know of nothing to compare with it.

When we put all these things together, it is difficult to decide whether we ought most to admire the mechanical skill which the Cambodian architects displayed in construction or the largeness of conception and artistic merit which pervades every part of their designs. These alone ought to be more than sufficient to recommend their study to every architect. To the historian of art the wonder is to find temples with such a singular combination of styles in such a locality—Indian temples constructed with pillars almost purely classical in design, and ornamented with bas-reliefs so strangely Egyptian in character. To the ethnologist they are almost equally interesting, in consequence of the religion to which they are dedicated. Taken together, these circumstances render their complete investigation so important that it is hoped it will not now be long delayed.{685}

## BOOK IX.
CHINA.

## CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.

CHRONOLOGY.

Period of Hea | B.C. 2100
Woo Wong period of Chow | 1100
Confucius died | 477
Chy hoang-ty built Great Wall | 240
Han dynasty | 201
Hoty, seventeenth king; Buddhism introduced | A.D. 90
Tsin dynasty | 260
Wootae dynasty; China divided into two kingdoms | 416
China reunited, capital Honan | 585
Tang dynasty | 897
Northern China conquered by Mongols | 1234
Kublai Khan | 1281
Ming dynasty; Mongol expelled | 1366
Manchow Tartar dynasty; now on the throne | 1644

It is extremely difficult, in the present state of our knowledge, to write anything, either conclusive or satisfactory, about the architecture of China. This may arise partly from the incuriousness of travellers, and partly because there really are no buildings in the country worthy of the people or their civilization. Till very recently, the latter would have appeared to be the true cause of our ignorance; but lately the photographic camera has penetrated even within the walls of the imperial city of Pekin, and has brought away impressions which go some way to modify this opinion. Unfortunately, the camera has not been accompanied by the measuring-tape or the notebook, and our information is therefore, in some respects, vague; but it seems certain that there are buildings worthy of more attention than has hitherto been bestowed upon them. Even these, however, are not such as we might expect to find among a people whose history and whose civilization seems so exact a counterpart of that of Egypt. In both countries we have the same long succession of dynasties with dates, extending through 3000 or 4000 years, interrupted only by shepherd invasions which in both countries lasted about five centuries, when the words of Manetho are as literally applicable to the Taeping rebellion as they are to the overthrow of{686} the Hyksos by the uprising of the native Egyptian races. During all this long period the same patriarchal form of government prevailed in both countries—the king being not only the head of the secular government, but the chief priest of the people. Both people early attained a certain stage of civilization, and maintained it without change or progress during the whole period of their existence. The syllabic symbols of the Chinese are the exact counterpart of the hieroglyphic writing of the Egyptians, as clumsy and as unlike that of any other contemporary nation, and as symbolic of their exclusive segregation from the rest of mankind. In both countries there was always the same calm contemplation of death, the same desire for an honourable funeral and a splendid tomb, and the same reverence for the dead. In these and fifty other particulars, the manners and customs of the two peoples seem identical, and the perfect parallelism only breaks down when we come to speak of their buildings. There are no tombs in China to be compared with the Pyramids, and no temples that approach those of Thebes in dimensions or in splendour.

If the Chinese were as closely allied to the Tartar or Mongolian tribes on their north-eastern frontier as is generally supposed, this difference could not have existed. It may therefore be, as has been suspected, that the true Chinese are more closely allied to the Polynesian races, especially on the sea-board, which is the only part of the country we are really acquainted with. When the inner country has been more carefully examined, it is probable that we may see cause to modify our opinion as to the architectural character of the Chinese people.

This will be especially the case if, as is highly probable, the so-called Indo-Chinese inhabitants of Cambodia are very much more closely allied in blood to the Chinese than they are to any of the races inhabiting India; since, by the erection of the buildings described in the last division of this work, the Cambodians have nobly vindicated their title to be considered as one of the great building races of the world. Considering the short time of their existence and the limited area they occupied, they may in fact lay claim to having surpassed even the Egyptians in this respect.

It will be strange if in Honan and Quang-si we do not eventually find the links which will confirm the connexion of the two races of Cambodia and China, and explain what at present can only be regarded as one of the unsolved problems of architectural history.

A little well-directed industry on the spot would very soon clear all this doubt away. Meanwhile there are other minor causes which may have contributed to the absence of monumental buildings in China, and which it may be as well to allude to before proceeding further. In the first place, the Chinese never had either a dominant priesthood{687} or a hereditary nobility. The absence of the former class is a very important consideration, because, in all countries where architecture has been carried to anything like perfection, it is to sacred art that it has owed its highest inspiration, and sacred art is never so strongly developed as under the influence of a powerful and splendid hierarchy. Again, religious and sectarian zeal is often a strong stimulus to sacred architecture, and this is entirely wanting in this remarkable people. Though the Chinese are bigoted to a greater extent than we can well conceive in all political matters, they are more tolerant than any other nation we know of in all that concerns religion. At the present moment three great religious sects divide the empire nearly equally between them. For though Buddhism is the religion of the reigning family, and perhaps numbers more followers than either of the other two, still the followers of the doctrines of Confucius—the contemporary and rival of Sakya Sinha—are a more purely Chinese sect than the other, and hold an equal place in public estimation; while, at the present time, the sect of Laou Tse, or the Doctors of Reason, is more fashionable, and certainly more progressive, than the others.[655] Christianity, too, might at one time have encroached largely on either of these, and become a very prevalent religion in this tolerant empire, had the Jesuits and Dominicans understood that the condition of religious tolerance here is a total abstinence from interference in political matters. This, however, the Roman Catholic priesthood never could be brought to understand; hence their expulsion from the realm, and the proscription of their faith, which otherwise would not only have been tolerated like all others, but bid fair to find more extensive favour than any. Such toleration is highly laudable in one point of view; but the want of fervour and energy from which it arises is fatal to any great exertions for the honour of religion.

In the same manner the want of an hereditary nobility, and indeed of any strong family pride, is equally unfavourable to domestic architecture of a durable description. At a man’s death his property is generally divided equally among his children. Consequently the wealthiest men do not build residences calculated to last longer than their own lives. The royal palaces are merely somewhat larger and{688} more splendid than those of the mandarins, but the same in character, and erected with the same ends.

There is no country where property has hitherto been considered so secure as China. Private feuds and private wars were till lately unknown; foreign invasion was practically impossible, and little dreaded. Hence they have none of those fortalices, or fortified mansions, which by their mass and solidity give such a marked character to a certain class of domestic edifices in the western world. Equality, peace, and toleration, are blessings whose value it would be difficult to overestimate; but on the dead though pleasing level where they exist, it is in vain to look for the rugged sublimity of the mountain, or the terrific grandeur of the storm. The Chinese have chosen the humbler path of life, and with singular success. There is not perhaps a more industrious or, till the late wars, happier people on the face of the globe; but they are at the same time singularly deficient in every element of greatness, either political or artistic.

Notwithstanding all this, it certainly is curious to find the oldest civilized people now existing on the face of the globe almost wholly without monuments to record the past, or any desire to convey to posterity a worthy idea of their present greatness. It is no less remarkable to find the most populous of nations, a nation in which millions are always seeking employment, never thinking of any of those higher modes of expression which would serve as a means of multiplying occupation, and which elevate while feeding the masses; and still more startling to find wealth, such as the Chinese possess, never invested in self-glorification, by individuals erecting for themselves monuments which shall astonish their contemporaries, and hand down their names to posterity.

From these causes it may be that Chinese architecture is not worthy of much attention. In one respect, however, it is instructive, since the Chinese are the only people who now employ polychromy as an essential part of their architecture: indeed, with them, colour is far more essential than form; and certainly the result is so far pleasing and satisfactory, that for the lower grades of art it is hardly doubtful that it should always be so. For the higher grades, however, it is hardly less certain that colour, though most valuable as an accessary, is incapable of that lofty power of expression which form conveys to the human mind.{689}

## CHAPTER II.
PAGODAS.

CONTENTS.

Temple of the Great Dragon—Buddhist Temples—Taas—Tombs—Pailoos—Domestic Architecture.

If we had the requisite knowledge, or if the known examples of Chinese temples were sufficiently numerous, we ought, before describing them, to classify the buildings, apportioning each to that one of the three religions to which it belongs. For the present this must be left to some one on the spot. Meanwhile there is no difficulty in recognising those which belong to the religion of Fo or Buddha. These are generally the nine-storeyed towers or taas, which, as will be explained hereafter, are merely exaggerated tees of the Indian dagobas. The temples, properly so-called, of this religion, are not very magnificent, nor are they generally built in a permanent style of architecture. This is still more the case, apparently, with the temples of Confucius. The only one that has been carefully described and photographed is that at Pekin, which is also probably the most magnificent. Judging from our present information, it more resembles a university than a temple. There are neither images nor altars, but great halls, on which are hung up the names of the emperors and of the most distinguished literates of the kingdom. There are no priests; and though ceremonies are there performed annually by the emperor in honour of the great philosopher, these scarcely can be called worship, or the hall a temple.

Temple of the Great Dragon.

The most magnificent temple in the capital, so far as we know in the empire, is that known as the Temple of Heaven, or the Great Dragon.[656] It is situated close to the southern wall of the city in a square{690}

379. Temple of the Great Dragon. (From a Photograph by Beato.)

{691}

enclosure measuring about a mile each way. From the outer gate a raised causeway leads to the temple, on either side of which are numerous buildings for the accommodation of the priests, which are approached by frequent flights of steps leading down to a park beautifully planted. At its inner extremity stands the temple itself, a circular building, three storeys in height, with broad projecting roofs, the upper terminating in a gilt ball, directly under which stands the altar.

The temple is raised on a circular pyramid, the three terraces of which are seen in the woodcut. There are several handsome gateways at intervals across the causeway, so arranged that from the entrance the circular temple itself can be seen through the long vista, framed as it were by them; and as the whole of the upper part is covered with blue tiles and gilding, the effect is said to be very pleasing.

In the same enclosure is another temple called that of the Earth, where sacrifices of animals are annually offered to the gods, whoever they may be, to whom this temple is dedicated.

These temples are said to have been erected about the year 1420, and, if so old, seem to be in a very fair state of preservation, considering the manner in which they are now neglected.

In reading Mr. Michie’s, or any other description of the Dragon Temple of Pekin, it seems impossible to avoid feeling that there are so many points of resemblance between it and the Serpent Temple of Nakhon Wat, that the coincidence can hardly be accidental. The variations are hardly greater than might be expected from difference of age, and the fact that the one was erected by Chinese at the northern extremity of their empire, the other by Cambodians near the southern limit of theirs. All the links, however, which connect the two temples are still wanting; yet, as we have the assertion of the Chinese traveller in 1295 that the Tao-tze religion[657] existed in Cambodia while he was there, we should not feel surprise at any similarity that may be traced between the temples of the two countries.

Buddhist Temples.

The only Buddhist temple in China of which any plans have been made, or which I have myself had an opportunity of inspecting, is that at Honan, opposite Canton. Unfortunately it is very modern, and by no means monumental. It is a parallelogram enclosed by a high wall, measuring 306 ft. by 174 ft. In the shorter front facing the river is a gateway of some pretension. This leads to a series of halls opening into each other, and occupying the whole of the longer axis of the internal court. The first and second of these are porches or ante{692}chapels. The central one is the largest, and practically the choir of the building. It contains the altar, adorned by gilt images of the three precious Buddhas, with stalls for the monks and all arrangements necessary for the daily service. Behind this, in the next compartment, is a dagoba, and in its rear another apartment devoted to the goddess Kuan yin, principally worshipped by women—in fact, the Lady Chapel of the church. Around the court are arranged the cells of the monks, their kitchen, refectory, and all the necessary offices of the convent. These are generally placed against the outer wall, and open into the court.

Any person familiar with the rock-cut examples in India will easily recognise in this temple all the features he is accustomed to in the earlier Chaityas and Viharas, though strangely altered by their Chinese disguise. The figure which stood in front of the dagoba (Woodcut No. 61) is moved forward and placed on an altar by itself, with two companions added, in accordance with modern Chinese theology; but the general arrangements remain the same. The most interesting part, however, is the arrangement of the cells, &c., relatively to the temple. In one of the caves at Dhumnar (Bhim ka Bazar) something like this has been attempted, but it is evidently so difficult of execution in the rock, that we are not surprised to find it not repeated. It is evidently what was intended to be represented on the central rath of Mahavellipore (Woodcut No. 181), and must indeed have been the general arrangement of Buddhist ecclesiastical establishments. What is now wanted is, that some one should supply information regarding the earlier temples of the Chinese, say of the 12th to the 16th centuries. They no doubt exist, and would throw great light on the earlier Indian examples. In the meanwhile, however, it is curious to refer back to the Woodcut No. 129. From it it will be perceived that as early as the 11th century the Buddhist Chaitya in India, standing in the centre of its Vihara, had already been sublimated into an idol temple, surrounded by a series of idol niches, since there cannot be a doubt that the Jaina temple of Vimala Sah is a reproduction for another purpose of an old Buddhist monastery. The curious point is, that the 18th-century temple of Honan reproduces, for their original purpose, forms which in India had, seven centuries earlier, passed away to another faith, and became wholly conventional. It is still more strange that, if we leap over the intermediate period, and go seven centuries further back, we shall find in India the same ceremonies performed in the same form of temples as those at which any one may assist in China at the present day.

At Pekin there are several Lamaseries or Buddhist monasteries, of a much more monumental character than that at Honan, but it is very difficult indeed to guess at their arrangement from mere verbal{693} descriptions without dimensions. The gateway of one, represented in Woodcut No. 380, gives a fair idea of the usual mode of constructing gateways in China.

380. Monumental Gateway of Buddhist Monastery, Pekin. (From a Photograph by Beato.)

It has three openings of pleasing proportions, and is as well designed as any to be found in China. Behind it is to be seen the dagoba, to which it leads: a tall form, with a reverse slope, and an exaggerated tee, so altered from those we are accustomed to in the earlier days of Indian architecture, that it requires some familiarity with the intermediate forms in Nepal and Burmah to feel sure that it is the direct lineal descendant of the topes at Sanchi or Manikyala. Around it are minarets, with a cross-legged seated figure of Buddha{694} on each face. But without a plan or description it is impossible to say whether they come down to the ground, or on what kind of basement they rest.

The ordinary form of a temple, as seen in the villages or towns in China, is extremely simple, and seems to be the same, whether dedicated to Buddha, or to the Queen of Heaven, or to any other deity of the strange pantheon of the Celestial Empire. It generally consists of a square apartment with a highly ornamented roof, and with one of the side-walls removed. The entrance is never at the end, nor the end wall ever removed, as would be the case in the West, but always the side; and it is by no means clear that this is not the right and reasonable way of arranging matters. In very small temples a single beam supports the eaves, and a screen inside forms the back of the porch and the front of the temple. In larger temples two or more pillars are introduced, but the other arrangements remain the same. Both these may be seen in the annexed woodcut (No. 381), and when arranged as picturesquely as in this group, and with their gateways and subsidiary adjuncts, they become very pleasing features in the landscape. As architectural objects, they depend for their effect principally on colour, which is applied with an unsparing hand in the form of glazed tiles, painted ornaments, and frequently also paintings, such as landscapes and figure subjects. Gilding is also employed to a great extent, and with good effect.

{695}

381. Temple at Macao. (From a Sketch by the Author.)

Taas.

The objects of Chinese architecture with which the European eye is most familiar are the taas, or nine-storeyed pagodas, as they are usually called. In the south they generally have that number of storeys, but not always, and in the north it ranges from three to thirteen. As before hinted, these are nothing but exaggerated tees of dagobas, and it is easy to trace them through all the stages of the change. In India we can easily trace the single wooden chattah or umbrella of Karli (Woodcut No. 56) to the nine-storeyed tower at Chittore (Woodcut No. 143), and from that the transition is easy to the Chinese examples, although the elaboration of the two was simultaneous, and the Chinese had probably erected tall towers as early as the Jains.

382. Porcelain Tower, Nankin.

Of those which existed in China in our own time the best known is the celebrated porcelain tower at Nankin.[658] Commenced in the year 1412, and finished in 1431, it was erected as a monument of gratitude to an empress of the Ming family, and was, in consequence, generally called the Temple of Gratitude. It was octagonal in form, 236 ft. in height, of which, however, about 30 ft. must be deducted for the iron spire that surmounted it, leaving little more than 200 ft. for the elevation of the building, or about the height of the Monument of London. From the summit of the spire eight chains depended, to each of which were attached nine bells, and a bell was also attached to each angle of the lower roofs, making 144 bells in all, which,{696} when tinkling in harmony to the evening breeze, must have produced an effect as singular as pleasing. It was not, however, either to its dimensions or its bells that the tower owed its celebrity, but to the coating of porcelain which clothed its brick walls, as well as the upper and under sides of the projecting roofs, which mark the division of each storey. The porcelain produced a brilliancy of effect which is totally lost in all the representations of it yet published, but which was, in fact, that on which the architect almost wholly relied for producing the effect he desired, and without which his design is a mere skeleton.

383. Pagoda in Summer Palace, Pekin. (From a Photograph by Beato.)

Another celebrated pagoda is that known as “Second Bar Pagoda,” on the Canton river. It is a pillar of victory, erected to commemorate a naval battle which the Chinese claim to have gained near the spot.{697} It is, in design, nearly identical with that of Nankin, but of smaller dimensions, and is now fast falling to ruin.

384. Tung Chow Pagoda. (From a Photograph by Beato.)

These two are of the usual and most typical form, and so like hundreds of others, that it is impossible to deduce any sequence from them with such representations as we now possess. Though pleasing and purposelike, as well as original, they are somewhat monotonous in design. A tower divided into nine equal and similar storeys is a very inferior design to that of the minars of the Mahomedans, or the ordinary spires of Christian churches; and, if all were like these, we should be forced to deny the Chinese the faculty of invention in architecture. In the north, however, the forms seem much more various. One in the Summer Palace (Woodcut No. 383) is divided into either three or seven storeys, as you choose to count them. Four{698} of the sides of the octagon are longer than the other four, and altogether there is a play of light and shade, and a variety about the ornaments in this tower, which is extremely pleasing. It is much more like an Indian design than any other known in China, and with the circle of pillars round its base, and the Lât or Stambha, which usually accompany these objects further west, it recalls the original forms as completely as any other object in this country.

In direct contrast to this is the Pagoda of Tung Chow (Woodcut No. 384). Its thirteen storeys are almost more monotonous than those of the Nankin Pagoda; but they are merely architectural ornaments, string-courses, in fact; and as the tower is not pierced with windows above the base, it becomes, like an Orissan temple, an imposing object of architectural art without any apparent utilitarian object. It thus escapes the charge of littleness in design, which only too justly applies to most of its compeers.

It is extremely difficult to form a correct estimate of the artistic merits of these towers. Edifices so original and so national must be interesting from that circumstance alone, and it seems almost impossible to build anything in a tower-like form of great height, whether as a steeple, a minar, or a pagoda, which shall not form a pleasing object from its salience and aspiring character alone, even without any real artistic merit in itself. Besides these qualifications, I cannot but think that the tapering octagonal form, the boldly-marked divisions, the domical roof, and general consistence in design and ornament of these towers, entitle them to rank tolerably high among the tower-like buildings of the world.

Tombs.

Like all people of Tartar origin, one of the most remarkable characteristics of the Chinese is their reverence for the dead, or as it is usually called, their ancestral worship. In consequence of this, their tombs are not only objects of care, but have frequently more ornament bestowed upon them than graces the dwellings of the living.

Their tombs are of different kinds; often merely conical mounds of earth, with a circle of stones round their base, like those of the Etruscans or ancient Greeks, as may be seen from the woodcut (No. 385) borrowed from Fortune’s ‘China’—which would serve equally well for a restoration of those of Tarquinia or Vulci. More generally they are of a hemispherical shape, surmounted with a spire, not unlike the Indian and Ceylonese examples, but still with a physiognomy peculiarly Chinese. The most common arrangement is that of a horseshoe-shaped platform, cut out of the side of a hill. It consequently has a high back, in which is the entrance to the tomb, and slopes off to nothing at the entrance to the horseshoe, where the{699} wall generally terminates with two lions or dragons, or some fantastic ornament common to Chinese architecture. When the tomb is situated, as is generally the case, on a hillside, this arrangement is not only appropriate, but elegant. When the same thing is imitated on a plain, it is singularly misplaced and unintelligible. Many of the tombs are built of granite, finely polished, and carved with a profusion of labour that makes us regret that the people who can employ the most durable materials with such facility should have so great a predilection for ephemeral wooden structures.

385. Chinese Grave. (From Fortune’s ‘Wanderings in China.’)

386. Chinese Tomb. (From Fortune’s ‘Wanderings in China.’)

When the rock is suitable for the purpose, which, however, seems to be rarely the case in China, their tombs are cut in the rock, as in Etruria and elsewhere; and tombs of the class just described seem to be a device for converting an ordinary hillside into a substitute for the more appropriate situation.

Occasionally, however, the Chinese do erect tombs, which, though ornamental, are far from being in such good taste as the two forms just quoted. A tumulus is considered appropriate for this purpose all{700} the world over, and so is the horseshoe form under the circumstances in which the Chinese employ it; but what can be said in favour of such an array of objects as those shown in the Woodcut No. 387? Judged by the standard of taste which prevails in China at the present day, they may be considered by the natives as both elegant and ornamental, but it would be difficult to conceive anything which spoke less of the sepulchre, even from a Chinaman’s point of view; while, on the other hand, their dimensions are such as to deprive them of all dignity as architectural objects.

387. Group of Tombs near Pekin. (From a Photograph by Beato.)

Pailoos.

The Pailoos, or “triumphal gateways,” as they are most improperly called, are another class of monument almost as frequently met with in Chinese scenery as the nine-storeyed pagodas, and consequently nearly as familiar to the European eye. Their origin is as distinctly Indian as the other, though, from their nature, being easily overthrown, but few examples can be found in a country that has so long ceased to be Buddhist. Fortunately, however, we still possess in the{701} gateway of Sanchi (Woodcut No. 10) the typical example of the whole class; and we find them afterwards represented in bas-reliefs and in frescos in a manner to leave no doubt of the frequency of their application.

In China they seem almost universally to be employed as honorific monuments of deceased persons—either men of distinction, or widows who have not married again, or virgins who have died unmarried. Frequently they are still constructed in wood, and when stone is used they retain to this hour the forms and details of wooden construction. Whatever the material, they consist of either two or four posts, set either on the ground, so as to allow a passage through, or on a platform, as in Woodcut No. 388. This is as usual a form as the other, and shows how inapplicable the term gateway is to these monuments. The posts always carry a rail or frieze, bearing an inscription, which is, in fact, the object for which the monument was erected. Above this are various architectural details, which complete the design in a manner both original and artistic.

388. Pailoo near Canton. (From a Sketch by the Author.)

One serving as the portal to a dagoba has already been given (Woodcut No. 380), and though rich, can hardly be considered as superior to that in Woodcut No. 389, which spans a street in Amoy. Instead of leading to a dagoba, as was the case at Sanchi, and generally in India, we have, in this instance, what appears to be a simulated coffin placed under a canopy, and above the principal cornice, which is an essentially Chinese idea. With them a handsome coffin is an object of the highest ambition, and is, consequently, a luxury which the rich take care to provide themselves with during their lifetime. So far as we know, no great structural dagobas ever existed in China, so that their form is generally unfamiliar to the people.

Probably the Chinese would have spent more pains on their tombs had they not hit on the happy device of separating the monument from the sepulchre. We do so in exceptional cases, when we erect statues and pillars or other monuments to our great men on hill-tops or in{702} market-places; but as a rule, a man’s monument is placed where his body is laid, though it would probably be difficult to assign a good logical reason for the practice. The great peculiarity of China is that in nine cases out of ten they effect these objects by processes which are exactly the reverse of those of Europe, and in most cases it is not easy to decide which is best. In erecting the Pailoo, or monument, in a conspicuous place apart from the sepulchre, they seem to have shown their usual common sense, though an architect must regret that the designs of their tombs suffered in consequence, and have none of that magnificence which we should expect among a people at all times so addicted to ancestral worship as the Chinese.

389. Pailoo at Amoy. (From Fisher’s ‘China Illustrated.’)

In an historical point of view, the most curious thing connected with these Pailoos seems to be, that at Sanchi, about the Christian Era, we find them used as gateways to a simulated tomb. In India both the tumulus and the Pailoo had at that time passed away from their original sepulchral meaning; the one had become a relic-shrine, the other an iconostasis. Two thousand years afterwards in China we find them both still used for the purposes for which they were originally designed.

Domestic Architecture.

It is in their domestic architecture, if in any, that the Chinese excel; there we do not look either for monumental grandeur or for{703} durability, and it is almost impossible to resist being captivated by the gaiety and brilliancy of a Chinese dwelling of the first class, and the exuberant richness and beauty of the carvings and ornaments that are heaped on every part of it.

One of the most remarkable peculiarities of their houses is the almost universal concave form of roof, which writers on the subject have generally referred to as a reminiscence of the tent of the Tartars, who are supposed to have introduced it. The authors of this theory, however, forgot that the Chinese have been longer out of tents, and know less of them, than any other people now on the face of the globe. The Tartar conquest, like our Norman one, has long been a fusion rather than a subjection, and does not seem to have produced any visible effect on the manners or customs of the original inhabitants of China. It may also be observed that the typical form of the roof of a Tartar tent was and is domical, like those represented in the Assyrian sculptures, and seldom, if ever, constructed with a hollow curve; so that the argument tells the other way. Be this as it may, the form of roof in question arose from a constructive exigence, which others would do well to imitate. In a country like China, where very heavy rains fall at one season of the year, tiled roofs, such as they almost universally use, require a high pitch to carry off the water; but the glaring sunshine of another season renders shade to walls and windows absolutely necessary. If (as on the left of the annexed diagram) the slope of the roof is continued so far out as to be effective for the last purpose, the upper windows are too much darkened, and it is impossible to see out of them. To remedy this defect, the Chinese carry out their eaves almost horizontally from the face of the walls, where a leak becomes of slight importance; and then, to break the awkward angle caused by the meeting of these two slopes, they ease it off with a hollow curve, which not only answers the double purpose of the roof more effectually, but produces what the Chinese think—and perhaps rightly—the most pleasing form of roof.

390. Diagram of Chinese construction.

The only parts of such a roof that admit of decoration by carving are evidently either the central or angular ridges; and here they exaggerate their favourite hollow curve to an extent unpleasing to a{704} European eye—the angles being, in some instances, actually turned back, and the ridge being also ornamented by upturned ornaments at its ends, to an extent we cannot reconcile with our notions; nor indeed is it possible we should, when they are overloaded with grotesque ornaments to the extent too often found.

Another peculiarity that gives a very local character to their architecture is their mode of framing a roof, so unlike that of any other people. This arises from the timber most easily available for the purpose being a small pine, which has the peculiarity of being soft and spongy in the inside, while the outer rims of wood, just under the bark, retain their hardness and strength; it is thus practically a hollow wooden cylinder, which, if squared to form a framing as we do, would fall to pieces; but merely cleaned and used whole, it is a very strong and durable building-material, though one which requires all a Chinaman’s ingenuity and neatness to frame together with sufficient rigidity for the purposes of a roof.

The uprights which support these roofs are generally formed of the same wood, though not unfrequently they are granite posts—they cannot be called pillars—of the same dimensions, and strengthened, or rather steadied, by transverse pieces of wood, the space between which and the roof is generally filled with open-work carving, so as to form a species of frieze.

The roof is usually constructed (as shown in diagram No. 390) by using three or four transverse pieces or tie-beams, one over the other, the ends of each beam being supported on that below it by means of a framed piece of a different class of wood. By this method, though to us it may look unscientific, they make up a framing that resists the strongest winds uninjured. Sometimes, as shown in the dotted lines of the same woodcut, they carry the curve across the top of the roof; but, when this is done, they are obliged to have recourse to metal roofing, or to tiles of a greater length than are usually found or easily made.

As before remarked, however, it is not so much on its forms that Chinese architecture depends as on its colours—the pillars being generally painted red, the friezes and open work green; blue marks the floors and stronger lines, and gilding is used profusely everywhere. Whether this would improve a finer or more solid style of art may admit of doubt; but it is certainly remarkably pleasing in China, and singularly appropriate to the architecture we have been describing; and grouped as these buildings usually are around garden courts, filled with the gayest flowers, and adorned with rock-work and fountains more fantastic than the buildings themselves, the fancy may easily be charmed with the result, though taste forbids us to approve of the details.

The same ephemeral system of construction which prevailed in{705} dwellings of the rich merchants and mandarins was carried out in the royal palaces without any increase of monumental character, but, of course, with greater richness of ornament, and upon a larger scale. Like most Oriental palaces, however, those at Pekin consist of a number of detached pavilions, rather than of numerous suites of apartments grouped under one roof, as is usually the case in Europe; and they consequently never attain the magnitude essential to architectural dignity. In the Summer Palace at Pekin there were many detached pavilions similar to that represented in Woodcut No. 391, which, when interspersed with trees and water and rocky scenery, aid in making up a very fairy-like landscape, but in themselves can hardly be considered as objects of dignified architecture.

391. Pavilion in the Summer Palace, Pekin. (From a Photograph by Beato.)

{706}

392. Pavilion in the Summer Palace, Pekin. (From a Photograph by Beato.)

Occasionally, however, the Chinese attempted something more monumental, but without much success. Where glass is not available of sufficient size and in sufficient quantities to glaze the windows, there is a difficulty in so arranging them that the room shall not be utterly dark when the shutters are closed, and that the rain shall not penetrate when they are open. In wooden construction these difficulties are much more easily avoided; deep projecting eaves, and light screens, open at the top, obviate most of them: at least, so the Chinese always thought, and they have consequently so little practice, that when they tried solid architecture in a palace they could only produce such a pavilion as that figured in Woodcut No. 392, which, though charac{707}teristic of the style, cannot be praised either for the elegance of its form or the appropriateness of its ornamentation.

Perhaps their most successful efforts in this direction were when they combined a solid basement of masonry with a light superstructure of wood, as in the Winter Palace at Pekin (Woodcut No. 393). In this instance the height and solidity of the basement give sufficient dignity to the mass, and the light superstructure is an appropriate termination upwards.

393. View in the Winter Palace, Pekin. (From a Photograph.)

This last illustration is interesting, because it enables us to realise more distinctly than any other example yet known, what must have been the effect of the palaces of Nineveh and Khorsabad in the days of their splendour. Like this palace, they were raised on a solid basement of masonry, and were themselves composed of pavilions of light and ornamental woodwork; the great difference being that they had flat-terraced roofs instead of those covered with tiles, as in snowy Pekin; but the resemblance is curious, and examples even more nearly akin might probably be found if looked for.

The engineering works of the Chinese have been much extolled by some writers, but have less claim to praise as works of science than their buildings have as works of art. Their canals, it is true, are extensive; but with 300 millions of inhabitants this is small praise, and their construction is most unscientific. Their bridges, too, are sometimes of great length, but generally made up of a series of small arches constructed on the horizontal-bracket principle, as nine-tenths of the bridges in China are, and consequently narrow and unstable.{708} When they do use the true arch, it is timidly, and without much knowledge of its principles.

Their most remarkable engineering work is certainly the Great Wall, which defends the whole northern frontier of the country, extending over hill and dale for more than 1200 miles as the crow flies. It is, however, of very varying strength in different places, and seems to be strongest and highest in the neighbourhood of Pekin, where it has generally been seen by Europeans. There it is 20 ft. in height, and its average thickness is 25 ft. at the base, tapering to 15 ft. at the summit. There are also towers at short distances whose dimensions are generally about double those just quoted for the wall.

However absurd such a wall may be as a defensive expedient, it proves that 200 years B.C. the Chinese were capable of conceiving and executing works on as great a scale as any ever undertaken in Egypt. The wonder is, that a people who 2000 years ago were competent to such undertakings should have attempted nothing on the same scale since that time. With their increasing population and accumulating wealth we might have expected their subsequent works to have far surpassed those of the Egyptians. It, however, remains a problem to be solved, why nothing on so grand a scale was ever afterwards attempted.

In the rear of the Great Wall, in the Nankau Pass, there is an archway of some architectural pretension, and which is interesting as having a well-ascertained date, A.D. 1345.[659] Its dimensions are considerable, and it is erected in a bold style of masonry (Woodcut No. 394). The upper part is a true arch, though it was thought necessary to disguise this by converting its form into that of a semi-octagon, or three-sided arch. On the keystone is a figure of Garuda, and on either side of him a Naga figure, with a seven-headed snake hood, and beyond that a class of flowing tracery we are very familiar with in India about the period of its erection. Its similarity to the Nepalese gateway at Bhatgaon (Woodcut No. 174) has already been remarked upon, and altogether it is interesting, as exemplifying a class of Indian ornamentation that came into China from the North. If we had a few specimens of art penetrating from the south, we might find out the secret of the history of Buddhist art in China.

A few years hence it may be possible to attempt to write a history of architecture in China. At present, all that can be done is to describe the style as practised at the present day, and to point out in what respect it differs from the styles prevailing in neighbouring countries. Beyond this we shall not be able to advance till some{709} qualified person, accompanied by a photographer, is enabled to visit the central and western provinces of the empire. Even then his visit will be of very little use, unless he is sufficiently familiar with the style as now known, to be able to discriminate between what is new and what is old, and by an extended series of inductions to check the absurdities of native tradition, and form his own opinion on the facts presented to him. Assuming all this, it is still doubtful whether the materials exist in China for any extended history of the art. Such facts as have come to light are not encouraging. Wood has been far too extensively used throughout for any very permanent style of architecture ever having been employed. But there are things in Cambodia, and other neighbouring states, which seem to have come neither from India, nor from any other country we are acquainted with, but are nevertheless of foreign origin, and must have been imported from some extraneous land; and it is difficult to say where we are to look for their originals if not in central or western China.

394. Archway in the Nankau Pass. (From a Photograph.)

The same remarks apply to Japan. So far as our knowledge at {710}present extends, there is not a single permanent building in the island of so monumental a character to deserve being dignified by being classed among the true architectural examples of other countries. It may be that the dread of earthquakes has prevented them raising their buildings to more than one or two storeys in height, or constructing them of more solid materials than wood. It may be, however, that the Japanese do not belong to one of the building races of mankind, and have no taste for this mode of magnificence. It is the same story as in China; we shall not know whether it is true that there are no objects worthy to be styled architecture in Japan till the island is more scientifically explored than it has been; nor, if they do not exist, shall we till then be able to say to which of the two above causes their absence is to be ascribed. Such information as we have is very discouraging; and it is to be feared that, though quaint and curious in itself, and so far worthy of attention, it is of little interest beyond the shores of the islands themselves. On the other hand, it is to be feared that the extent of our knowledge is sufficient to make it only too clear that the art, as practised in Japan, has no title to rank with that already described in the preceding pages, and consequently no claim to a place in a general history of architectural art.

However admirable and ingenious the modern Chinese may be, it is in the minor arts—such as carving in wood and ivory, the manufacture of vessels of porcelain and bronze, and all that relates to silk and cotton manufactures. In these they certainly excel, and reached a high degree of perfection while Europe was still barbarous, but in all the higher branches of art they take a very low position, and seem utterly unprogressive.

They have no poetry, properly so called, and no literature worthy of the name. Their painting never rose much above the scale of decoration, their sculpture is more carving than anything we know by the higher name, and their architecture stands on the same low level as their other arts. It is rich, ornamental, and appropriate for domestic purposes, but ephemeral and totally wanting in dignity and grandeur of conception. Still it is pleasing, because truthful; but after all, its great merit in the eyes of the student of architecture will probably turn out to rest on the light it throws on the earlier styles, and on the ethnographic relations of China to the surrounding nations of Eastern Asia.{711}

## APPENDIX.

### APPENDIX A.
ON SOME DISPUTED POINTS OF INDIAN CHRONOLOGY.

Throughout the preceding pages the dates of kings’ reigns, where quoted, have been assumed as known, and the eras from which they are calculated as ascertained. This has been done in order not to interrupt the narrative of events by introducing a chronological disquisition at every point where a date occurs; but no one at all familiar with the subject needs to be told that the dates of mediæval dynasties in India are far from settled, and that few are universally acquiesced in. Great progress has, it is true, been made in the last ten or twenty years in clearing away the difficulties that surround the subject. So much is this the case, that there are only one or two dates of sufficient importance to affect our reasoning which still remain in doubt; but though this may be true, there are many others about which the world in general feel considerable hesitation. It consequently becomes almost indispensable to state briefly the grounds on which the chronology used throughout this work is based, in order that the correctness of most of the inductions stated in it may be estimated at their true value.[660]

The earliest reasonable statement bearing on the subject which we possess is in the 9th chapter of Arrian’s ‘Indica.’ It is there stated—quoting from Megasthenes—“That from Bacchus (Ixwaku) to Sandrocottus (Chandragupta), the Indians reckon one hundred and fifty-{712}three monarchs, who reigned during the space of six thousand and forty-two years.”

The first part of this statement is eminently satisfactory, as it seems clear from it that we possess in the Puranas the same lists as were submitted to the Greeks in the fourth century B.C. In the Solar lists, we have in the Treta Yug sixty-two reigns, from Ixwaku to Rama.[661] There is no complete Lunar list in that age. For the Dwapar age we have three Solar lists: one for Kusha to Vrihadsana, thirty-five reigns; another from Dishta to Janamejaya, thirty-three reigns; and a third, from the son of Swadhaja, the father of Sita, wife of Rama, to Mahabasi, thirty-four reigns. In the Kali Yug we have no complete Solar list, but the Lunar list gives fifty descents from Jarasandha to the last Nanda. This gives 145 or 146 reigns, or rather too few. But the Lunar lists, from the Dwapar Yug, give forty-four from Puru to Yudhishihira, and fifty from Yadu to Krishna, so that the average is as nearly as may be that stated by Megasthenes.

The second part of the statement, giving these kings’ reigns an average duration of nearly forty years, must of course be rejected, but it is satisfactory to find that, at that early age, the falsification of the chronology had only gone to the extent of duplication, and that the monstrous system of Yugs, with all their attendant absurdities, had not then been invented.

Though it may not at present be capable of direct proof, I have myself no doubt that the date assigned by the Hindus for the Kali Yug (3101 B.C.) is a true date, though misapplied. It either was the date when the Aryans assumed that their ancestors had first crossed the Indus, or when they had first settled on the banks of the Saraswati or the Ghoghra. It forms no part of any subsequently invented system, and seems the only one fixed point in a sea of falsification. Assuming it for the present, and deducting Chandragupta’s date from it, we have 3101-325 = 2776 years from Ixwaku to Chandragupta, which, divided by 153, gives the reasonable number of eighteen years for the duration of each king’s reign. Of course it is not contended that these lists are absolutely to be depended upon—many names may be lost, and many misplaced, from the carelessness of copyists, or from other causes; but, on the whole, when treated in this manner, they afford a reasonable framework for the reconstruction of the ancient history of India, and one that accords perfectly with all we at present know about the ancient history of the immigrant Aryans.{713}

If this view can be sustained, the events which are described in the Ramayana—not of course the poem, which is comparatively modern—took place about 2000 years before Christ. Adhering to the above average, we gather that the events described in the ‘Mahabharata,’ in like manner, occurred 900 years before Chandragupta, or 1225, or more precisely, according to the Puranic chronology, thus—

| B.C.
Chandragupta | 325
Sisunagas, 360 years | 360
Sunakas | 128
Sabadeva to Ripunjaya, 23 reigns at 18 years | 414
| 1227

which may probably be taken as very near the true date.

It must for the present remain an open question whether the dates just quoted can be so established as to stand the test of the exigencies of modern critical acumen. It would be very satisfactory if this could be so accomplished. In the first place, because it would afford a firm basis for all our reasoning regarding the ancient history and ethnography of India, but also because it would prove that the Puranas do contain the germs of truths which, when properly investigated, may lead to the most important deductions. My own impression is entirely in favour of the existence of the requisite materials for the purpose; but the fashion has been lately to pooh-pooh the whole thing, and no attempt has been made—so far as I know—by any competent scholar, to investigate the matter on scientific principles.

Be this as it may, when we come to the Anjana era, 691 B.C.,[662] and the life of Buddha, we tread on surer ground; and it is fortunate for our purposes that it so, as with the life of Buddha the mediæval history of India may be said to commence, and unless his date and that of his successors can be established with at least approximate certainty, the history of architecture in India must remain unintelligible. In this instance, however, the materials, I believe, exist in abundance. They have not, it is true, been as yet investigated to such an extent as to render any point certain, but the difficulties are daily disappearing, and as every point gained adds materially in throwing light on others that have hitherto been considered unsettled, we may hope before long to see the whole satisfactorily resolved.

There is perhaps no single point in the whole early history of India on which the chronicles of Ceylon and Further India are so distinct and unanimous than that Buddha died—as they express it,{714} attained Nirvana—at the age of eighty years, in the year 543 B.C., or in the year 148 of the Eetzana[663] or Anjana epoch.[664]

Attempts have recently been made, it appears to me on the most illogical and insufficient data, to invalidate this conclusion. There is an admitted falsification in the Ceylonese annals, as set forth in the ‘Mahawanso,’ of sixty years about this date; but as Turnour, who first pointed it out, explained also the reason for it,[665] the rectification is easy, and the result clear. It seems that Vijaya, the first Indian immigrant or conqueror of Ceylon, landed in the island 483 years B.C., or thereabout; and the reigns of his successors, down to Devenampiyatisso, the contemporary of Asoka, when added together, amount to only 236 years. When the annals came to be expounded in the ‘Mahawanso,’ it was thought expedient, for the good of religion, that the coming of Vijaya should be coincident with the death of Buddha; and as the sacred era could not be disturbed, Asoka’s reign was carried back so as to admit of the adjustment. This was effected principally by reducing the epoch of the nine Nandas from 100 years, at which the Puranas place them, to forty-four, and by other slight alterations. The sixty years was afterwards recovered by small increments to subsequent reigns, not of much consequence, but injuriously affecting the correctness of the whole chronology of the ‘Mahawanso,’ down to about A.D. 400, when it was compiled in its present form. As the date of Asako’s reign is perfectly well known (272-236 B.C.), we have only to reject the most improbable coincidence of Vijaya landing on the day of Buddha’s Nirvana, which there is nothing to support, and the whole becomes clear, and everything falls into its place.[666]

Besides the Ceylonese lists, and those quoted by Crawfurd from the Burmese annals,[667] the Puranas afford us two, quoted below, which are of great interest to us, and the whole are so marvellously coincident, that there seems very little doubt of their general authenticity.{715}

Solar List. | Lunar List.
| Saisunaga Dynasty reigned 360 years.
| B.C. |  | B.C.
Kritanjaya | 691 | Sisunaga | 685
Rananjaya | — | Kakavarna | —
Sanjaya | — | Kshemadharman | —
Sakya | — | Kshetranjas | —
Suddhodana | — | Bimbisara 603
|  | Kanwapana, 9.
|  | Bhumiputra, 14.
Ratula | — | Ajatasatru | 551
Prasenajit | — | Udayaswa | 519
Kshudraka | — | Dasaka | 503
Kundaka | — | Nagadasoka | 495
Suratha | — | Sisunaga | 471
Sumitra | 451? | Kalasoka | 453
|  | Maha Nanda | 425
|  | Sumalya | —
|  | 7 Nandas | —
|  | Interregnum Kautilya ending | 325

With regard to the first or Solar list, Professor Wilson remarks, that “Sakya is no doubt the name of the author or reviver of Buddhism, but is out of place, as he was the son and not the father of Suddhodana.”[668] This, however, is only one of the numerous instances in which the grandson takes his grandfather’s name, and which is an interminable cause of confusion in Indian chronological inquiries.[669] Gautama, as we know, never ascended the throne, but devoted himself to his religious duties, but his son Ratula succeeded his grandfather. In like manner, the Prasenajit in the list is not the cousin and companion of Buddha, but the grandson, or grand-nephew of that earlier king of the same name. Sumitra, the last name mentioned in the Bhagavat Purana, seems to have ascended the throne about 451. There are no exact dates for fixing this event, and with him perished the long line of Solar monarchs, who for more than twenty-six centuries—if our chronology is correct—had influenced in so marked a manner the destinies of India.

It was during the reign of Kalasoka, the eleventh king of this dynasty, that the second convocation was held, 100 years after the Nirvana. This, too, it has recently become the fashion to doubt. The accounts, however, in the ‘Mahawanso,’ and the pointed mode in which it is referred to in the Burmese annals, seem sufficient to settle the point. Like Vijaya’s landing in Ceylon on the day of Buddha’s Nirvana, Prome is said to have been founded 443, the year of{716} this convocation.[670] They must have believed strongly, or they would not have attempted the adjustment.

As before mentioned, we have neither buildings, nor coins, nor inscriptions belonging to this period, nor indeed any material facts that would enable us to verify the chronological data. It is, however, so near the time when these became abundant, that it does not seem unreasonable to hope that some such evidences may turn up. Till something is found, the absence of all such materials must remain as a curious piece of evidence regarding the important influence that the contact of the nations of the West had on the arts and civilization of India at the time.

Maurya, Sunga, and Kanwa Dynasties.

Chronology. | Buildings.
Maurya Dynasty, 130 years. |
| B.C. |
Chandragupta | 325 |
Bimbisara | 301 | Hathi Gumpha, Udayagiri.
Asoka | 276 | Caves at Barabhar, Inscriptions, Lâts, &c.
Suyasas | 240 |
Dasaratha | 230? | Cave at Barabhar.
Sangata | 220? |
Indrapalita | 212? | Cave at Bhaja?
Somasarman | 210 |
Sasadharman | 203 | Caves at Udayagiri.
Vrihadratha | 195 | Rail at Bharhut.
Sunga Dynasty, 112 years. |
Pushpamitra | 188 | Cave at Bedsa.
Agnimitra | 152 |
Sujyeshtha | 144 | Caves 9 and 12, Ajunta.
Vasumitra | 137 |
Badraka, or Ardraka | 129 | Chaitya Cave, Nassick.
Pulindaka | 127 |
Ghoshavasu | 124 |
Vajramitra | 121 |
Bhagavata | 112 |
Devabhuti | 86 | Cave at Karli.
Kanwa Dynasty, 45 years. |
Vasudeva | 76 |
Bhumimitra | 67 | Raj Rani cave, Udayagiri?
Narayana | 53 |
Susarman | 41 |
“ died | 31 |

The chronology of these three dynasties, as recorded in the Puranas, may admit of some adjustment in detail; but the whole is so reasonable and{717} consistent that it can hardly be to any great extent. The whole, too, is now found to be so perfectly in accord with the architecture of their age, and with such inscriptions as have been found, that I see no reason whatever for doubting its general correctness.

The cardinal point on which the whole hinges is the twelfth year of Asoka’s reign after his consecration—the sixteenth from his inauguration. In that year he published his rock-cut edicts, in which he mentions his allies, Antiochus and Antigonus, Ptolemy (Philadelphus), Magas (of Cyrene), and Alexander (of Macedonia).[671] As it happens, all these five names are mentioned together in Justin’s abridgment of Trogus Pompeius (xxvi. 2, 3 and xxvii. 1), though without giving any date. As Magas, however, died B.C. 257, and the only year in which all five were alive together was either that year or the preceding, we may safely assume that the sixteenth of Asoka was B.C. 256 or B.C. 257. If that is so it seems impossible to bring down the date of the accession of Chandragupta to a time more modern than one or two years after B.C. 325. The Ceylonese annals allow him thirty-four years,[672] but our knowledge of what happened in India in Alexander’s time forbids any such extension. On the other hand, his accession happening in the year, or the year after, the defeat of Porus, is not exactly what we would expect from the context; but there is nothing, so far as I know, to controvert it.

Even if it were not so certain as it appears to be from the statements just quoted, there can be no doubt that the chronology of this period can easily be settled from the numerous inscriptions found in the rock-cut excavations quoted in the table, as well as from coins and other materials that exist. These dynasties thus become a fixed starting-point for all our inquiries, either backwards or forwards.

{718}

Andra, or Andrabritya Dynasty.

Chronology. | Buildings.
| B.C.
Sipraka | 31
Krishna A.D. | 8 | Cave at Nassick.
Satakarni I. | 10 | South gateway, Sanchi.
Purnotsanga | 28 | Caves 10 and 11 Ajunta.
Srivaswami | 46
Satakarni II. | 64 | Saka Era established A.D. 79.
Lambodara | 120 | Nahapana cave, Nassick.
Apitaka | 138
Sangha | 150
Satakarni III. | 168 | Rudra Dama, bridge inscription, A.D. 151.
Skandhaswati | 186
Mrigendra | 193
Kuntaluswati | 196
Swatikarna | 204
Pulomavit | 205
Gorakshaswasri | 241
Hala | 266
Mantalaka | 271
Purindra sena | 276
Sindara | 381
Rajadaswati | 6 ms.
Sivaswati | 284
Gautamiputra | 312 | Gupta Era established A.D. 319; cave at Nassick, outer rail Amravati.
Vasithi putra | 333
Pulomat | 335
Sivasri | 363
Skandaswati | 370
Yajnasri | 377 | Cave at Nassick.
Vijaya | 406 | Great cave Kenheri.
Chandrasri | 412
Pulomat | 422
“ died | 429
or | 436 | Caves 16 17, and 19 Ajunta.

For this dynasty, as for the preceding three, we are dependent on the Puranas; but its chronology, like theirs, is so reasonable and so consistent with what we learn from other sources that I see no reason whatever for doubting its general correctness. There are slight discrepancies of course, not only as to names but as to the duration of this dynasty in the different Puranas. Thus the Vishnu Parana, according to Wilson, enumerates thirty kings, reigning 456 years; the Vayu and Bhagavat the same. The Matsya gives only twenty-nine kings, but makes them reign 460 years; but none of them give all the names, nor does the addition of the longest list extend beyond 435 years.[673] The whole, from Chandragupta to the last, are also added together (p. 232), and make up 751 years, or bringing the last of the Andras down to A.D. 426. The actual fixation of these dates will probably be found in Nassick cave inscriptions. Two of these bear dates: one, apparently in the reign of Pulomavi,{719} or Padma, is dated nineteen from an unspecified era; the other is in the twenty-fourth year of the “modern era,” and the act recorded is, apparently, by order of Gautamiputra.[674] As it is, however, almost certain that the Gupta era, A.D. 319, was established in the reign of the last-named king, it seems probable that when these inscriptions are more carefully examined than they hitherto have been, they will fix these reigns with even greater certainty than we obtain from the Puranic dates; the one element of uncertainty being that the new era does not seem to be dated either from the accession of the king or from any great event, but four cycles of sixty years, or 240 years from the Saka era it was intended to supersede.[675]

However this may be settled, it cannot disturb either the initial or the final dates of this dynasty, nor affect to a greater extent than say ten or twelve years the period of 751, which extended from the accession of Chandragupta to the final overthrow of the Andras in or about A.D. 426.

This being so, it is evident that these four dynasties form the backbone of our mediæval chronology of India to which all minor events must be fitted, and fortunately most of them do so without any difficulty. It was the great period of Buddhist supremacy in India. There were, it is true, Buddhists in India before Asoka, but they were then only a sect, and Buddhism was a religion for two centuries after the fall of the Andras. It was then, however, a struggling faction. The modern Hindu religion was gradually raising its head under the Gupta and Ujjain princes, and in the 8th century it superseded Buddhism in most parts of India.

A great part of the uncertainty that of late years has crept into the chronology of this period is owing to the neglect with which these dynasties have been treated by modern investigators. This has arisen principally from the extreme rarity of their coins, while it has been principally from numismatic researches that progress has been made in the elucidation of many dark passages of Indian history. Coinage was, however, a most distinctly foreign importation into India. The Bactrian Greeks were the coiners par excellence, and it is through their coins, and those only, that complete lists of their kings down to 130 B.C. have been compiled. It is only from their coins also that we know the names of the barbarian kings who succeeded them, or those of the Sah kings, who appear next in our{720} list. But the four dynasties from Chandragupta to Chandrasri were of native kings, who had only indirectly, if at all, come in contact with the Greeks, and had never learnt the art of coining, or, at least, used it to a sufficient extent to enable us to identify their names or succession from their coins. Their caves, and the inscriptions with which they covered their walls, are fast supplying the information their coins, if they had existed, would have afforded; but the investigation has not been taken up by those who have the ear of the public to the same extent as the numismatists. Enough, however, has been done to show that the materials exist for establishing the history of these dynasties on a sure basis; and when this is done from inscriptions combined with architecture, the results are more satisfactory than when dependent on numismatic evidence alone.

Sah Kings of Saurastra.

| Coin Dates. | A.D.
Nahapana | 79 | —
Ushavadata | — | —
Swami Chastana | — | —
Jaya Dama | — | —
Jiva Dama | — | —
Rudra Daman | 72 | 151
Rudra Sinha | 102 | 181
Rudra Sah | 104 | 183
Sri Sah | — | —
Sangha Daman | — | —
Daman Sah | 144 | 223
Yasa Daman | — | —
Damajata Sri | — | —
Vira Daman | — | —
Isvara Datta | — | —
Vijaya Sah | 170 | 249
Damajata Sri | — | —
Rudra Sah | 197 | 276
Visva Sinha | — | —
Atri Daman | — | —
Visva Sah | 200 | 279
22. Rudra Sinha | 270 | —
Asa Daman | 271 | 280
Swami Rudra Sah | 292 | 371 | [676]
Swami Rudra Sah II. | — | —

The evidence on which the dates in the above list are founded is in curious contrast with that on which those of the previous dynasties rest. It is almost wholly numismatic. The founder of the dynasty, Nahapana, describes himself as the viceroy or satrap of King Kshaharata,[677] certainly a foreigner, who conquered the country and held it in subjection for nearly 300 years.

The one point that interests us here is to ascertain from what era the dates on the coins are to be calculated. When I previously wrote on the subject,[678] I felt inclined to adopt a suggestion that Nahapana was the founder of the era known afterwards as that of{721} Vicramaditya, B.C. 56. I did this principally because I felt certain that no king of that name reigned in the first century B.C., and I could discover no event occurring about that time so important as to deserve to be commemorated by an era.

On the other hand, a foreign conquest and the foundation of a new dynasty were just such events as would be so celebrated; and, pending further evidence, this assumption seemed to account for what was otherwise inexplicable in the foundation of this era. Since then, however, a more careful study of Rudra Daman’s Bridge inscription,[679] and the architectural evidence detailed in the preceding pages, have convinced me that such a theory was untenable. The Bridge inscription is dated in the year 72, from the same era from which all the coins of these kings are dated. In it he boasts “that, after twice conquering the Sata Karni, Lord of Dakshinapatha, he did not completely destroy him on account of their near connexion, and thus obtained glory.” And he boasts of conquering, among other countries, Anupa, Saurastra, Asva Kutcha, Kukura, Aparanta, &c.[680]

A little further on in our history, Gautamiputra, in whose reign the era was established which was afterwards adopted by the Guptas and Ballabhis, boasts, in an inscription in a cave at Nassick, that he had conquered, among others, all the countries above enumerated, and as having re-established the glory of the Satavahana dynasty, and destroyed the race of Khagarata.[681] All this reveals a state of matters that will not accord with the Vicramaditya era, but does perfectly agree with that of Salivahana.

Assuming that the Sata Karni dynasty is correctly represented in the Puranas, as enumerated above, Rudra Dama would, on the assumption that the dates were Samvat, have been reigning A.D. 16 (72-56), immediately after the establishment of the dynasty, and before the long and prosperous reign of Sata Karni II., which could hardly have taken place had his family been smitten so early in their career. But if we assume that it was A.D. 151 (79+72), it would coincide with the reign of the third king of that name, and at a time when, so far as we can judge from the length of the reigns, and the careless way they are enumerated in the Puranas, the fortunes of the family were considerably depressed; and it is little more than a century and a half after this time that Gautamiputra restored the fortunes of his family. Had 300 years elapsed between these two events, the family could hardly ever have attained the position it did.

Another point of more importance is, that the dates on the Sah{722} coins—from whatever era calculated—extend only to 270-271, or doubtfully to 292.[682] If these are calculated from the Vicramaditya Samvat, they must have ceased to reign in A.D. 214, or at the latest A.D. 236, and there would have been no Khagaratas for Gautamiputra to humble after A.D. 312. On the other hand, if calculated from A.D. 79, their final extinction would have been in A.D. 349, or at latest A.D. 371. So that, though humbled by Gautamiputra, they overlap the Gupta era to some extent, which it seems is almost indispensable to account for the mode in which the Sah coins overlap and run into those of the Gupta series, on which Mr. Thomas so strongly and, it appears to me, so correctly insists.[683]

One of two things seems necessary: either that the Guptas shall be carried back so as to overlap the Sahs, dating either from the Vicramadityan or Selucidan eras, or that the Sahs be brought down so as to overlap them, if dating from the era bearing their name. Mr. Thomas and General Cunningham prefer the former hypothesis. For the reasons just stated, and others to be given further on, I feel convinced that the latter hypothesis is the only one that is in accordance with the facts of the case as we now know them.

This substitution of the Saka era for the Samvat brings what we know of the history, with what we learn from the inscriptions, and gather from the coins, so completely into accordance, that I can hardly doubt now that it is the correct view of the matter, and certainly more in accordance with the facts than that I previously adopted.

Guptas.

Although the Puranas conduct us in so reasonable and satisfactory a manner to the end of the Andrabritya dynasty, their guidance forsakes us there. After that, all the subsequent contemporary dynasties were thrown into hotch-pot—to use a legal expression—and a system of fraud and falsification commenced which is the reproach of Indian history. It is not, however, difficult to see the causes of this new and monstrous invention. For six centuries and a half Buddhism had reigned supreme in India, and the system of the Brahmans, though probably never extinct, was at least subdued and subordinate. With the decline of the Andras this state of affairs was altered. The Guptas, who immediately succeeded them, are shown, both by their coins and inscriptions, to have been followers{723} of Vishnu and Siva,[684] and their buildings at Erun tell the same story.[685]

Though the Guptas may have inaugurated the new system, it was by the great Vicramaditya of Ujjain that it was established, A.D. 515-550. He did for the new religion what Asoka had done for Buddhism some seven and a half centuries before his time. He made a state religion in India, and established it so firmly that little more than a century after his death it seems to have superseded Buddhism altogether. It is in his reign, apparently, that the Puranic system was invented—not that the Puranas were written or all the falsifications of history invented in his day, but a commencement was then made, and by the 10th or 11th century of our era it was brought to the complete perfection of fraud in which it is now found.

One of the first necessities of the new system was to throw back the period when India was Buddhist, and to place a gulf between them and their successors. To effect this, the Puranas enumerate the following:—“After these” (the Andrabrityas) “various races will reign—seven Abhiras, ten Gardabhilas, sixteen Sakas, eight Yavanas, fourteen Tusharas, thirteen Mandas, eleven Maunas or Hunas[686]—seventy-nine princes will be sovereigns of the earth for 1399 years. Then eleven Pauras will be kings for 300 years; when they are destroyed, Kailakila Yavanas will be kings, the chiefs of whom will be Vindhya Sacti, &c.—106 years.” After various others: “The nine Nagas will reign in Padmavati, Kantipura, and Mathura; and the Guptas of Magadha along the Ganges to Pryaga.”[687] Although we cannot identify all these dynasties with certainty, we know, at all events, that, instead of succeeding one another during more than 2000 years, they were all more or less contemporary—certainly that none were earlier than the Gupta era (A.D. 319)—and that none of them survived Vicramaditya (A.D. 550). The Sakas and Maunas, or Hunas, may be those destroyed by him, but of this hereafter. The Vindhya Sactis were contemporary with the Guptas, and the Gardabhilas are somehow connected with Bahram Gaur the Sassanian; and others we recognise dimly, but they are not sufficiently important to be discussed here.

Of all these the most important are the Guptas, and fortunately their date is one of the most clearly established facts in mediæval Indian chronology.[688]{724}

Dynasty. | Coins and Dates on Inscriptions. | A.D.
Sri or Raja Gupta | — | —
Maharaja Ghatotkacha | — | —
M. R. adhiraja Chandra Gupta I. | 82, 93+319 = | 401, 412. Caves 16 to 20 Ajunta. Buildings at Erun.
” Samudra ” | — | —
” Chandra Gupta II. | — | —
” Kumara ” | 124+ ” = | 443
” Skanda ” | 130, 137, 141, 146+ ” = | 449, 456, 460, 465
Mahendra a minor | — | —
Maharaja Sri Hastina | 163+ ” = | 482
Raja Buddha | 165+ ” = | 484
M. R. adhiraja Toramana | 182+ ” = | 501

The three last named can hardly be considered as belonging to the great dynasty, though they date from the same era, and the two first were comparatively insignificant characters. It was only Chandra Gupta I., A.D. 401, who assumed the title of Maharaja adhiraja, and founded the greatness of his race on the ruins of that of the Andrabrityas.

In addition to the above chronology, compiled from coins and dated inscriptions, Major Watson has recently supplied a most important item to their history from written records existing in Gujerat.

From this we learn that Chandra Gupta II. reigned twenty-three years after the conquest of Saurastra by his son; that Kumara Pal Gupta reigned twenty years; and that Skanda Gupta succeeded him, but lost Saurastra by the rebellion of his Senapati Bhatarka, the founder of the Ballabhi family. Two years after this event Skanda{725} Gupta died, and, as we are informed, “at this time the Gupta race were dethroned by foreign invaders.”[689]

The era from which these dates are taken never appeared to me doubtful; and this confirms more and more the conviction that it was from the era that bears their name, A.D. 319. It could not be from the Saka era, as has generally been assumed, from the fact that Albiruni asserts that the era that bears their name, was “apparently” that of their destruction,[690] because in that case Skanda Gupta must have lived and reigned for ninety-four years in addition to the sixteen we already know, from inscriptions, he occupied the throne. A reign of 110 years seems impossible; and, if it is not so, it seems certain, for the reasons stated in my previous paper, that the Gupta era, 319, is that from which their coins and inscriptions are dated.

Besides this, there is an inscription on the rock at Junaghar, engraved by the same Skanda, the last of the great Guptas. This was not translated by Prinsep, though a copy of it was in his hands before his last illness.[691] Had he lived to translate it, my impression is that the controversy as to the age of the Guptas never would have arisen—its evidence seems so absolute. Be this as it may, it never appeared, so far as I know, in a complete form and translated, till this was accomplished by the late Bhau Daji in the sixth volume of the Bombay Journal of 1862. In it we have three dates—the Sadarsana lake is said to have burst its banks in 130, to have been repaired in 137, and a temple to Vishnu built in 138, and twice it is repeated “counting from the era of the Guptas” (Guptasya Kala). The stone is worn where the middle date occurs, but there is just space enough for these words. The same king, on the Kuhaon pillar, dates his inscription in 141,[692] but without mentioning the era, which seems to have been so usual in Bengal as not to require being specified.

Besides this, the 146[693] years from 319, which we know from their dated inscriptions that they reigned, is just the interval that is required to fill up the gap between the Ballabhis and their era which they adopted on usurping the inheritance of the Guptas, two years before Skanda Gupta’s death.[694]

One other point of considerable importance to Indian history which arises from the fixation of this date (A.D. 465-70) for the destruction of the Guptas is, that it was almost certainly the White Huns who were the “foreign invaders” that struck the blow that stopped their{726} career. At least, we learn from Cosmas Indicopleustes, writing seventy years after this time, that the Huns were a powerful nation in the north of India in his day, and we may infer, from what he says of them, had been settled there some time.[695]

On the Bhitari Lât, Bhau Daji reads—somewhat doubtfully, it must be confessed—the fact that Skanda Gupta had fought, apparently with success, against the Hunas.[696] But the great point is that it was just about this time that the White Huns broke loose and extended their incursions east and west, so that there is not only no improbability of their being the “foreign invaders” alluded to, but every likelihood they were so. No one, indeed, can, I believe, with the knowledge we now possess, read De Guignes’ chapter on the White Huns,[697] without perceiving that it contains the key to the solution of many mysterious passages in Indian history. It is true India is not mentioned there; but from the time of Bahram Gaur in 420, till the defeat of Feroze in 475, the Persians were waging an internecine war with these Huns, and nothing can be more likely than that the varying fortunes of that struggle should force them to seek the alliance of the then powerful Guptas, to assist them against their common foe.

Precisely the same impression is conveyed by what is said by Ferishta and the Persian historians[698] of the history of that time. Nothing can now, however, be more easily intelligible than the visit of Bahram Gaur to India when first attacked by the White Huns. His marriage with an Indian (? Gupta) princess of Canouge; the tribute or assistance claimed by Feroze and his successors on the Persian throne, are all easily explicable, on the assumption that the two nations were at that time engaged in a struggle against a common enemy. This, too, explains the mention of the Shah in Shahi on Samudra Gupta’s Allahabad inscription.[699] Hence, too, the decided Persian influence on the gold coinage of the Canouge Guptas,[700] and the innumerable Sassanian coins of that period found in all parts of the north of India.[701] In all this the Sassanians seem inseparably mixed with the Guptas. The Persians, however, came eventually victorious out of the war. The great Guptas were struck down at some date between 465-70, or very shortly afterwards. The struggle, however, was apparently continued for some time longer by a subordinate branch of{727} their successors; inasmuch as we learn from an inscription found at Aphsar in Behar,[702] that the fourth of that dynasty, Damodara Gupta, “successfully encountered, at the battle of Maushari, the fierce army of the Western Huns.” This event may have stopped the career of the Huns in India, in which case it could not well have taken place before the year 535, when Cosmas Indicopleustes is supposed to have written his ‘Topographia Christiana;’ but it is by no means clear that he was not describing events that took place when he was himself in India some time previously. But be this as it may, it brings us to the time when the battles of Korûr—of which more hereafter—and Maushari freed India from the Sakas and Hunas, who had long held her in hated subjection. As I shall presently attempt to show, it appears to me hardly doubtful that these two battles were fought between 524 and 544; and they thus fix one of the most important epochs in mediæval Indian history. Indeed, so near each other are these two events in date, that I sometimes feel almost inclined to fancy they may be only different names for the same battle. At all events, they almost certainly represent parts of the same campaign which freed India in that age from the Yavanas; and that it was to commemorate the glories of these struggles that the Vicramaditya Samvat was instituted. This expulsion of the Yavanas was, too, the first serious blow that was struck at Buddhist supremacy, and from the effects of which it never afterwards completely recovered.

Ballabhi Dynasty.

| Dates on Inscriptions. | A.D.
Bhatarka Senapati | — | 465 or 470
Dharasena ” | — | —
Dronasinha | — | —
Dhruvasena Maharaja | — | } Cotem. Vicramaditya
Dharapatta | — | } Dynasty
Grihasena | — | } of Ujjain,
Sridhara Sena | — | } 470 to 550.
Siladitya I. | — | —
Charagriha I. | — | —
Sridhara Sena II. | 272 | 591
Dhruvasena II. | — | Cotem. Hiouen Thsang
Sridharasena III. | — | —
Siladitya II. | 356 | 675
Charagriha II. | — | —
Siladitya III. | — | —
Siladitya Musalli | 400 | 718

{728}

However mistaken Albiruni may be in his dates, there is little doubt that he is quite correct in his statement to the effect that “L’ère de Ballabha est postérieure à celle de Saca de 241 ans. Apparemment Ballabha suivit immédiatement les Gouptas, car l’ère des Gouptas commence aussi 241 de l’ère de Saca.”[703] This we learn also, with the particulars how it happened, from Colonel Watson’s account of the transaction; while Colonel Tod’s celebrated Puttun Somnath inscription makes it also certain that the Ballabhi era commenced A.D. 319.[704] This being so, it seems difficult to understand why the era should have been called that of Ballabhi as well as that of the Guptas, unless it were that it was adopted by the first-named dynasty, and that they dated from it their acts and inscriptions, which are extremely numerous. There may be reasons why this should be otherwise; but, though the point has been generally and fiercely contested by eminent Indian chronologists, I fail to appreciate the arguments brought forward in favour of either the Vicramaditya or Saka eras,[705] and look upon their own era (A.D. 319) as certainly the one from which all the Gupta inscriptions are dated.

My impression is, that this would never have been considered doubtful but for an incautious statement by Colonel Tod that Ballabhi was destroyed by the Parthians A.D. 524,[706] in the reign of a Siladitya, its last king. Its inhabitants were, according to this account, slaughtered with the usual romantic incidents; but after a while a remnant established themselves in Sidhapore, and finally built a new capital, which they called Anhilwarra.

The utter falsity of the information so supplied to Colonel Tod is proved by the fact that when Ballabhi was visited by Hiouen Thsang, 115 years after its reputed destruction, he found it not only standing, and neither Sidhapore nor Anhilwarra thought of, but the old capital still remaining one of the richest and most prosperous cities of India, and its king one of the three greatest kings of northern India. The king’s name was Dhruvapaton, and he was a nephew or grand-nephew of Siladitya of Malwa, and the son-in-law of Siladitya, the reigning king of Canouge.[707] Lastly, we have the dates in copper-plates of a Dhruvasena, one in 310+319=629; the other 322+{729} 319, or 641,[708] the very year that Hiouen Thsang met him at Allahabad, if we assume them dated from the Ballabhi Samvat.

It would be satisfactory if we could determine the date of the destruction of Ballabhi with precision, as it is one of these events that mark an epoch in Indian history. It was one of the concluding acts of the old drama that closed the mediæval period of Indian history, and ushered in the dark ages which lasted more than two centuries from that time.

The materials for this hardly exist at present, though it may be approximated. We have numerous inscriptions of this dynasty, dated 310, 326, 338, 348, &c.,[709] or A.D. 629, 645, 657, 667 respectively, if the figures are all correctly read, which is not quite clear; and lastly, Mr. Burgess reports one dated 400, or A.D. 719, belonging to the last Siladitya, and consequently approaching very nearly to the event. Two accounts are current as to the mode in which the destruction was effected: one, that it was caused by an earthquake, which may have happened at any time;[710] the other (by Tod), that the city was destroyed by the Parthians. If it was by a foreign foe, it could only have been by the Mahomedans. They were on the Indus in strength in 22 Hegira,[711] or A.D. 644, or before Hiouen Thsang had left India, and no foreigner could have crossed the Indus or attacked Ballabhi after that time, or for some years before it, without being noticed by Mahomedan historians. They remained there in strength till after Mahomed Kasim, 711-715,[712] and it was to him that I was at one time inclined to ascribe the destruction. If, however, Mr. Burgess’s date is correct, his death was three years too early. But I do not think it at all improbable that Ballabhi is one of the cities—Barus and Uzain—said to be plundered by Junaid in A.D. 725 or 726.[713] Barus looks very like Baroach, and Uzain is almost certainly Ujjain—but whether Maliba is Ballabhi, I must leave others to determine.

All the accounts agree that Anhilwarra Puttun was founded Samvat 802, or A.D. 746,[714] which may be correct within a year or two; but from the accounts we have, it is clear that an interval of from twenty to thirty years must have elapsed between the two events, during which the inhabitants of the destroyed city sought refuge at Punchâsur and Sidhapore before they undertook the building of their new capital. If, therefore, we assume 725 as the date of the destruction of Ballabhi, we shall probably not err more than a year or two either way.

The earliest date of this family yet discovered is one on a copper{730}plate of Dharasena II., which has been read by Professor Bhandarkar as 272,[715] or, according to the views here adopted, 591. It is hardly probable that any much earlier will be found; for it must be borne in mind that though the Ballabhis wrested the sovereignty of Gujerat from the Guptas two years before Skanda’s death (ante, p. 724), neither the first nor second of the race ventured to assume even the modest title of Raja; they were content to remain Senâpatis, or Generals. The third calls himself Maharaja; but their greatness only culminated in or about A.D. 650, when one of them, Sri Dharasena III., became Maharaja Adhiraja—King of kings or Emperor of Northern India.[716] The reason of this, as we shall presently see, was that the family that really succeeded the Guptas in the place of supreme authority in India was that of Ujjain, the second or third monarch of this race being the celebrated Vicramaditya, whose date, for reasons to be given hereafter, seems almost certainly to have been from 515 to 550. Be this as it may, as we shall presently see, it seems quite certain that a great Brahmanical revival took place in the beginning of the 6th century, which quite overshadowed all the Buddhist dynasties in northern India. For a while these were again eclipsed by a reflex wave of Buddhism, which for a century—A.D. 550-650—again illumined India. It was a last expiring effort, however, and after the last-named date it was only a struggle for existence on the part of the Buddhists, and in another century they are known no longer in those central countries where they had so long reigned supreme.{731}

Chalukya Dynasties.

Western Branch. Capital Kalyan. | Eastern Branch. Capital Rajmehendri.
1. Jaya Sinha Vijayaditya. 2. Raja Sinha, Rana Raga, Vishnu Vardhana. 3. Vijayaditya II. 4. Pulakesi, A.D. 489? 5. Kirtti Varma I. 6. Mangalisa. 7. Satyasraya began to reign 609. 8. Amara. 9. Aditya. 10. Vikramadiya I. 11. Vinayaditya, Yuddha Malla, began to reign A.D. 680. 12. Vijayaditya III. began to reign A.D. 695. 13. Vikramaditya II. began to reign A.D. 733. 14. Kirtti Varma II. 15. Kirtti Varma III., cousin of the last, A.D. 799. 16. Tailapa. 17. Bhima Raja. 18. Ayya, or Kirtti Varma IV. 19. Vijayaditya IV. 20. Taila Bhupa II. or Vikramaditya III., in A.D. 973 restored the monarchy which had been for some time usurped by the Ratta Kula. He died A.D. 997. 21. Satyasraya II. Irivi Bhujanga Deva, A.D. 997. 22. Vikramaditya V. began to reign about A.D. 1008 (?) 23. Jaya Sinha Deva, Jagadeka Malla, about A.D. 1018 (?) 24. Someswara Deva I., Trailokya Malla Ahawa Malla, about A.D. 1040. 25. Someswara Deva II., Bhuneka Malla A.D. 1099, expelled by his brother. 26. Vikramaditya VI., Kali Vikrama, Tribhuvana Malla, in A.D. 1076. 27. Someswara Deva III., Bhuloka Malla, A.D. 1127. 28. Jagadeka Malla, A.D. 1138. 29. Tailapa Deva III., Trailokya Malla, A.D. 1150. 30. Someswara Deva IV., Tribhuvana Malla, A.D. 1182. Dethroned by Bijjala Deva of the Kalabhuriya line. | 1. Vishnu Vardhana II., or Kubja Vishnu Vardhana, conquered Vengi A.D. 605. 2. Jaya Sinha I. 3. Indra Raja, his brother. 4. Vishnu Vardhana III. 5. Manga Yuva Raja. 6. Jaya Sinha III. } 7. Kokkili. } brothers. 8. Vishnu Vardhana IV. } 9. Vijayaditya I. 10. Vishnu Vardhana V. 11. Narendra Mriga Raja. 12. Vishnu Vardhana VI., or Kali Vishnu Vardhana. 13. Vijayaditya II., or Guna Gunanka Vijayaditya, conquered Kalinga. 14. Chalukya Bhima I., his brother. 15. Vijayaditya III., or Kollabhiganda Vijaya. 16. Amma Raja. 17. Vijayaditya IV., or Kaudagachita Vijaya. 18. Talapa. Usurper. 19. Vikramaditya V., the son of a brother of Amma Raja I. 20. Yuddha Malla. 21. Raja Bhima II. 22. Amma Raja II. 23. Dhanarnava. Interregnum of twenty-seven years. 24. Kirtti Varma, son of Dhanarnava. 25. Vimaladitya, his brother. 26. Raja Raja Narendra. 27. Rajendra Chola. 28. Vikrama Deva Kulottunga Chola. 29. Raja Raja Chola, viceroy for one year. 30. Vira Deva Kulottunga Chola, or Saptama Vishnu Vardhana. Viceroy from A.D. 1079 to 1135.
After this the southern part of these dominions fell under the sway of the Hoisala Bellalas, whose rise in the Mysore dates from A.D. 984; their destruction by the Mahomedans in 1310. | After Vira Deva Kulottunga Chola the country fell under the sway of the Kakatya dynasty of Worangul, of whom Pratapa Rudra was the chief (A.D. 1162). The latest of their inscriptions is dated A.D. 1336.

{732}

The two lists in the preceding page are among the most interesting and most important of those we possess, inasmuch as they contain the backbone of all we know regarding the Chalukyas, and are, in fact, what justify us, historically, in erecting their style into a separate division, different from the other forms of architecture known in India.

What we know of these dynasties is almost wholly due to the intelligent zeal of Sir Walter Elliot, who, during his residence in India, made a collection of 595 inscriptions from various parts of the Dekhan. From these he abstracted the lists he first published in the fourth volume of the Royal Asiatic Society; but afterwards much more in detail in the ‘Madras Journal,’ in 1858, from which these lists are copied verbatim.[717] Some of the inscriptions were translated and published with those papers, and others by Major—now General—- Le Grand Jacob, in the Bombay Journal (vol. iii. p. 206, et seqq.), and other notices of them are found among Mr. Wathen’s inscriptions in various volumes of the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society.’ But we shall not know more than a fraction of what we ought to, and might know, till Sir Walter Elliot’s inscriptions are translated and published.[718] When this is done, and the architecture of the Nizam’s territory explored, the Chalukyan style will take its place worthily between the Dravidian and Indo-Aryan styles, and will, if I mistake not, be found equal to either, both in importance and in artistic merit.

Fortunately there is no mistake or doubt about the era from which the Chalukyan inscriptions are dated: the Ballabhi branch succeeding to the possessions of the Guptas in Gujerat, naturally adopted their{733} era, but the southern branch being entirely detached from any such association, adopted the Saka era (A.D. 79), which was then, so far as is known, the only other era at that time in use in India. What is equally important is, that there seems only one doubtful date among all those quoted in the lists—that of 411 Saka (A.D. 490), attached to the name of Pulakesi I. In his first paper,[719] Sir Walter Elliot thought it so improbable, that he rejected it altogether; and Professor Eggeling tells me he has strong reasons for suspecting the copperplate on which it is found to be a forgery.

As an initial date it does not appear impossible, if my views are correct, though certainly improbable. If Bhatarka Senapati wrested Gujerat from Skanda Gupta two years before his death, or in 463 or 468, it is by no means impossible that the fourth from him may have been reigning in A.D. 490, but the difficulty is the other way. There seems no doubt, from Mr. Burgess’s Badami inscriptions,[720] that Mangalisa succeeded his brother Kirtti Varma in 567, and it does seem impossible that he should have been the son of one who was reigning in 490, especially if he continued to reign till 609. If Mangalisa was the son of Pulakesi, which there seems no reason for doubting, it is evident that the central figure of his date must be altered to a higher number; but to what extent we shall not know till it is ascertained whether Vijaya was the son or grandson of Bhatarka Senapati. In the meanwhile, however, if we, as an hypothesis, add fifty years to the date of 411, and make it 461, or A.D. 540, it will allow Pulakesi a reign of twenty-seven years before the accession of Mangalisa in 567, which will bring the whole within the limits of probability, and seems perfectly consistent with the context.

With the seventh king we tread on surer ground. He was the king who, when bearing his grandfather’s name, Pulakesi, Hiouen Thsang visited in 640,[721] and was, as his inscriptions tell us,[722] the hero of those wars with Harsha Verddhana, or Siladitya of Malwa, which Ma-twan-lin so graphically describes as occurring in 618 to 627. From that time the dynasty seems to have flourished till the death of Vicramaditya II. He ascended the throne 733, and died about 750, or twenty-five years more or less after the destruction of the Ballabhi branch. After this, as Sir Walter Elliot expresses it, “the power of the Chalukyas was alienated for a time, or had suffered a partial obscuration, till the time of Teila, who is described as restoring the monarchy in 973.”[723] After this it enjoyed two{734} centuries of prosperity, till it was finally extinguished—their northern possessions passing to the Kalabhuryas—their southern to the Hoisala Bellalas of Dwarasamudra or Hullabîd.

The history of the younger branch of this family will be more interesting to some future historian of Indian architecture than it is to us at the present day. Their possessions lay principally below the Eastern Ghâts, on the shores of the Bay of Bengal, in what are generally known as the three Circars, extending from Gangam—in their day I believe—to Mahavellipuram; but of their architecture we know nothing. No traveller educated in architectural matters has yet visited that country; and though it sounds like a paradox to say so, what we do know of it we learn from buildings not erected by them, and in a country they never seem to have possessed. It is only from the buildings of Pratapa Rudra at Worangul and elsewhere above the Ghâts that we can appreciate the perfection to which they had brought their style.

From the meagre extracts from the inscriptions of Pulakesi I., which Sir Walter Elliot gives in his first essay on this subject,[724] there seems little doubt that he was the king who, 100 years before Hiouen Thsang’s time, harried the monastery at Amravati,[725] and abolished Buddhism in those parts. It seems also more than probable, as he conquered the Chola, and burnt Conjeveram, that he also expelled the Pallavas, and commenced the works at Mahavellipur. If the rock-cut monastery mentioned by Fa Hian and Hiouen Thsang, and so often referred to above, existed at all, it was in his territories, and may still exist in the Nizam’s. If it did so, nothing seems more probable than that he should seek to mark the boundary of his southern conquest by similar works. Knowing all this, we see also why there should be so much similarity between Mangalisa’s cave at Badami, and the nearly contemporary caves at Mahavellipur. We know, too, that there is a vast tract of country in Central India, extending east and west from shore to shore, and north and south from Sadras to Ellora, which is covered with buildings of great beauty and interest, but which nobody cares to explore. We know also that there exists in the Asiatic Society’s rooms a volume which contains their history, and that of the dynasties who built them, but which nobody cares to read. Knowing how easily all this could be remedied, it is tantalising to close this history with so meagre a sketch of the Chalukyan style as that contained in the preceding pages, but as the principles of the Indian Council seem fixed, its description must in all probability be relegated to a subsequent generation.{735}

Ujjain and Canouge Dynasties.
| Reign. | Date.
Vasu Deva |  |
Vicramaditya I. of Ujjain | 25 | 470?
Sri Harsha | 20 | 495?
Vicramaditya II. the Great | 35 | 515
Siladitya I. of Malwa | 30 | 550
Prabhukara | 25 | 580
Raja Verddhana | 5 | 605
Siladitya II. of Canouge | 40 | 610
Died and troubles commenced | — | 648-650

Although the Ballabhis wrested the province of Gujerat from the failing hands of Skanda, the last of the Great Guptas, two years before his death, in or about 470, they remained long in a subordinate position. Their earliest inscription yet found dates only in 593, and their one Emperor or Raja Adhiraja, Sri Dharasena III., only ascended the throne after the Canouge dynasty were struck down in 648-50.

The interval between these two events we are now happily able to fill up with two of the most illustrious dynasties of India—the first including the reign of the great Vicramaditya of Ujjain, who is to the Hindus what Solomon is to the Jews, or Asoka to the Buddhists. The last-named religion, as mentioned above, was becoming effete about the middle of the 5th century, and the Guptas were introducing the modern Brahmanical faith in its place. What, however, they were only feebly attempting, the Ujjain dynasty accomplished with a brilliancy that has eclipsed everything that happened before or since in India, in the eyes of the Hindus at least. All that is great in science, or in poetry, or the arts, shone forth around his wonderful throne—the exact counterpart of Solomon’s—and all that subsequently took place in India bears the stamp of his greatness. It seems, however, to have been too bright to last. The four succeeding monarchs were Buddhists—of a singularly tolerant type it is true—but still certainly favourers of that religion. The last of them, Siladitya, was the king at whose court Hiouen Thsang sojourned in 636, and afterwards in 642, and where he witnessed the festival of the distribution of alms so often alluded to above. Hiouen Thsang gives the date of his death categorically, 650, and adds, though in the form of a prophecy, that after that, “l’Inde entière sera en proie à des troubles affreux—et des hommes pervers se feront une guerre acharnée.”[726] This is more than confirmed by Ma-twan-lin, but with an apparent discrepancy of date, to the extent, it may be, of two years.[727] It was in fact the commence{736}ment of those troubles which extinguished Buddhism, then in Central India, and a century later abolished it wholly, except in some remote corners of the land.

Whether he died in 648 or 650, there is no doubt, from the numerous incidents our Chinese traveller recounts, that this Siladitya ascended the throne 610, one year after his great rival, Pulakesi II., of Kalyan, who, as pointed out above, began to reign in 609, and fought with him with varying success in 618-627.

For the chronology of the four preceding reigns we have nothing but the assertion of Hiouen Thsang, that “suivant la tradition”[728]—and in another place, “on lit dans l’histoire de ce royaume,[729] que le trône était occupé il y a soixante ans par un roi nommé Siladitya;” and further, that he reigned fifty years, which would carry us back to 530 for the accession of this king, supposing the passage was written in 640.

Notwithstanding the confidence with which it is stated, I have no hesitation in rejecting as excessive 110 for the length of the reign of three kings, two of whom were brothers. I do so with the more confidence, as our author, though so exact a geographer, and recorder of things he saw, is in no one instance to be depended upon for his dates. He resided, for instance, for five years at Nalanda, and must have had access to its records, yet he tells us that the convent existed for 700 years,[730] and then gives the names of the five kings by whom the various parts were built from that time to his day, but sees no absurdity in representing these in all instances as the son of the one next named previously. Each, according to his account, must have reigned more than 100 years! To what extent this date of the accession of Siladitya must be curtailed can only be ascertained from subsequent discoveries or investigations. For the present it will suffice to abridge it by twenty years, which will bring it in accord with all that we at present know from other sources.[731]

When we turn to the other end of our list, we have certainly three—probably four kings—for whom we must find room in eighty years and one of the three, the great Vicramaditya, must have had a long reign. Professor Wilson ascribes to him thirty-five years,[732] and I know of no authority better than his, especially for the history or chronology of this period. The Hindus themselves, with their usual{737} carelessness, have forgotten to record it; and though there are certain dates in the Puranas and elsewhere, there are no means of testing their accuracy; for his accession, however, there are one or two that are worth recording. Thus, Wilford reports that this Vicramaditya ascended the throne of Malwa 441,[733] reckoning from the first of Salivahana, or, 520; or, according to the Agni Purana, 437 years after the same epoch, or 516,[734] which, I believe, may be the exact year; and there are several other dates which might be used to confirm this assumption, but there are no means of testing the genuineness.

Assuming this for the present, it leaves only forty-five years for the two or three preceding reigns; and it seems hardly sufficient for the purpose, for, as we shall presently see from the ‘Raja Tarangini,’ there were nine descents between Pratapaditya, the friend of the first Vicramaditya, and Matrigupta, the protégé of the second. Of course there may be considerable overlapping among the first and last of these nine kings, but it seems impossible to compress the whole within a shorter period than has been allowed.

However the small discrepancies of this dynasty may hereafter be adjusted, it is satisfactory to know that there is probably no date that will admit of a greater correction than say ten years, if so much, and the age of the last king, Hiouen Thsang’s friend, enables us to feel perfectly certain as to the dates of his son-in-law, Dhruvasena, of Ballabhi, of Sasanka, of Pundra Verddhana, of Kumara, of Kamarupa, and of Pulakesi II. of Kalyan. We have thus at least one fixed point in our mediæval history which is quite certain, and from which we can calculate backwards and forwards without difficulty, and is also an interesting one, as its final date, 650, is the beginning of the end which was consummated, as we shall see in the next section, by Laladitya just one century later.

Kashmir.

Asoka, 276 to 240 B.C.
Jaloka.
Damodara.
Hushka — Tartar Princes established Buddhism.
Jushka — Tartar Princes established Buddhism.
Kanishka — Tartar Princes established Buddhism.
Abhimanu, 79 A.D.?
Gonardya Dynasty.
Gonarda. Naga worship restored.
Vibhishana.
Indrajita.
Ravana.
Vibhishana.
Nara.
Siddha.
Utpalaksha.
Hiranyaksha.
Hiranyakula.
Vasukulo.
Mihirakula, invaded Ceylon 250?
{738}Vaka.
Kshitinanda.
Vasunanda.
Nara.
Aksha.
Gopaditya, 330?
Gokarna.
Narendraditya.
Yudhishthira.
Aditya Dynasty.
Pratapaditya, kinsman of Vicramaditya I., 390.
Jalaukas.
Tunjina.
Vijaya.
Jayendra.
Arya Raja.
Gonardya Line restored.
Meghavahana invaded Ceylon, 472.
Pravarasena I.
Hiranya — Contemporaries of Vicramaditya.
Toramana — Contemporaries of Vicramaditya.
Matrigupta, viceroy under Vicramaditya II., 515.
Pravarasena II., invaded Siladitya of Gujerat, 560.
Yudhishthira II.
Nandravat.
Ranaditya.
Vikramaditya.
Baladitya.
Naga or Karkota Dynasty.
Durlabhaverddhana, 627.
Pratapaditya, 663.
Chandrapira, 713.
Parapira, 721.
Lalataditya, 725; died 761. Conquered
Yasoverna of Kanouje, and overran India.

When the ‘Raja Tarangini’ is spoken of, in a real Indian history, it is only in the sense of the French proverb—“Parmi les aveugles les borgnes sont rois.” It may be the best, but it is a very indifferent specimen of its class. Some of the few events it narrates are interesting and important, but they lose much of their value from the chronology to which they are attached being wilfully and systematically falsified. Even they, however, may become more valuable than they now appear, when the work is better edited than it has been hitherto. The earliest and best account we have of it is that of Professor Wilson, in the fifteenth volume of the ‘Asiatic Researches.’ The translation, afterwards published by Troyer in French, is fuller, no doubt, but is made from a less perfect manuscript, and is far less critical. Dr. Geo. Bühler, who is now in the valley, is said to have collected several additional and more complete MSS., from which it is understood he is preparing a new edition of the work. When this is done, we may be able to use it more profitably; meanwhile, for chronological purposes, we can only try and find an initial and final date, and with one or two intermediate synchronisms, try to bring the whole into an intelligible sequence; but so hopelessly is the chronology confused by its author, that this at present can only be effected by the application of a system of averages, which is, and always must be, a most unsatisfactory mode of procedure.

Rejecting at once as worthless or hopelessly lost all those parts of the history before the third century B.C., the first name we come to is the familiar one of Asoka, but here placed 1394 B.C., or more than 1000{739} years too early. It was in order to recover what was lost by this first error that Kalhana Pandit was forced to falsify all the dates up to the accession of the Karkota dynasty (A.D. 627), when they were known, even in his day, as certain within ten or twenty years. To effect this, he added ten, twenty, or thirty years here and there, as caprice dictated, till at last, losing patience, he gave one king, Ranaditya, in the 6th century, 300 years, instead of a possible thirty, and so made both ends meet! So history is written in the East!

After Asoka’s, the next name we meet in the lists with which we are familiar is that of Kanishka, and he plays so important a part in the history of Kashmir and Gandhara, that it would be of extreme interest if his date could be fixed with even approximate certainty. The ‘Raja Tarangini’ gives us no help in this matter. Generally, it has been assumed, principally on numismatic evidence, that he reigned either immediately before or immediately after the Christian Era;[735] but between him and Asoka our lists afford only two names. If, therefore, we are to apply to this history the same logic the very learned have attempted to apply to dates of the Nirvana in the ‘Mahawanso,’ we must either bring down Asoka to the first century B.C., or take back Kanishka to the third. As neither process is admissible, nothing remains to be done but to admit that the record is imperfect, and that it is only from external evidence that these dates can be fixed with anything like certainty.

Even admitting that Hushka and Jushka were the father and grandfather of Kanishka, which I am inclined to think may be the case, instead of his brothers, as is usually supposed, it will hardly help us much—four reigns of insignificant princes in 200 years is nearly equally inadmissible, and will not help us to fix Kanishka’s date from Asoka’s.

Recently the question has been very much narrowed by the discovery of a number of dated inscriptions at Muttra and elsewhere, in which the name of Kanishka and his successor Huvishka frequently occur—the latter always following, never preceding, the former name. It is this that makes me believe that the Hushka of the chronicle was the father of Kanishka, and nothing in that case is so probable as that his successor should take his grandfather’s name. It is almost impossible he should take his uncle’s, and as the name of Jushka appears nowhere in the inscriptions, it is natural to assume that he had passed away some time before they were written.

Be this as it may, the following table gives the inscriptions as they were found by General Cunningham:— [736]

{740}

In the Indo-Pali Alphabet.
Mathura.— | Kanishka. | Maharaja Kanishka. Samvat 9.
Huvishka. | Maharaja Devaputra Huvishka. Samvat 39.
| Maharaja Rajatiraja Devaputra Huvishka. Samvat 47.
| Maharaja Huvishka. Samvat 48.
Vasudeva. | Maharaja Rajatiraja Devaputra Vasu (deva). Samvat 44.
| Maharaja Vasudeva. Samvat 83.
| Maharaja Rajatiraja, Shahi, Vasudeva. Samvat 87.
| Raja Vasudeva. Samvat 98.
In the Bactrian-Pali Alphabet.
Other localities.— | Bahawalpur. | Maharaja Rajadiraja Devaputra Kanishka.
| Samvat 11, on the 28th of the (Greek) month of Dæsius.
Manikyala Tope. | Maharaja Kaneshka, Gushana vasa samvardhaka.
| “Increaser of the dominion of the Gushans” (Kushans). Samvat 18.
Wardak Vase. | Maharaja rajatiraja Huveshka. Samvat 51, 15th of Artemisius.

In addition to these Bactrian-Pali inscriptions, we have a record of a king called Moga (Moa?), on a copper plate from Taxila, wherein the Satrap Liako Kusuluko (Kozola?) speaks of the 78th year of the “great king, the great Moga,” on the 5th of the month of Panæmus.

In addition to the inscriptions bearing these names, General Cunningham quotes a great number of others, with dates in the same Samvat era, extending from the year 5 to the year 281, but without any kings’ names in them. Their purport, however, and the form of the characters used, he considers sufficient to show that they form a connected series dating from one and the same era, whatever that may be.

Here, therefore, we have an era, which we may safely assume was established by Kanishka, either from the beginning of his reign, or to mark some important event in it, and which was used after his time for two or three centuries at least. The question is, was that the era since known as that of Vicramaditya, dating from 56 B.C., or was it the Saka era of King Salivahana, dating 135 years after that? General Cunningham unhesitatingly adopts the former; and though it is not a subject to dogmatise upon, I am much more inclined to adopt the latter.

In the first place, because I can find no trace of any such era being in use before the cataclysm in A.D. 750. Bhau Daji states that he knows no inscription dated in it before the 11th century.[737] General Cunningham says it was not used as early as 826,[738] but, in another place, quotes an inscription in 754.[739] I know of none earlier; and can trace no allusion to any king of the name of Vicramaditya in the first century B.C., and no events that could have given rise to an era{741} in 56 B.C. No trace of it is found in Thibet, in Burmah, or Cambodia, and it never was heard of in Ceylon or Java. In all these countries the Saka era is known and was used, and it seems strange that an era established by so powerful a Buddhist king as Kanishka should have endured for two or three centuries, and then perished, without leaving a trace in any Buddhist country, and then, after the 8th century, been revived and adopted by the Brahmans for their chronology. It may be so; but it is so strange, it seems to require some strong evidence to make it credible, and none such has yet been advanced.

Hitherto Kanishka’s date has been assumed almost wholly on numismatic evidence, but it seems to me without sufficient grounds. In all the lists hitherto published,[740] there are at least a dozen barbarian kings, several of whom, from the extent of their mintages, must have had long and prosperous reigns. To compress the whole into the sixty-four years that elapsed for the destruction of the Bactrian kingdom (120 B.C.), and the era of Vicramaditya (56 B.C.), seems to me a very strong measure, for which I can see no justification. To allow each, on an average, sixteen years’ reign, seems very much more probable, especially as many more names may yet be discovered—and even without them this would take us on to the Saka era (A.D. 79) without difficulty. One of them, Gondophares, as we shall presently see, reigned for twenty-six years at least.

The Roman consular coins found by M. Court, above referred to (ante, p. 79), were so worn as to be hardly legible, and though, therefore, they limit the antiquity of his reign certainly to this side of 44 B.C., they by no means prove that he was so early. On the contrary, the coins being worn, seems to prove that they were old before being buried; the probability is that they may have belonged to some pilgrim, or missionary, in the West, and had become sacred relics before they were enshrined. If Kanishka had merely wanted foreign coins, Greek or Roman, he might have had hundreds of perfect ones at his command. There must have been some other and holier motive for their deposit than merely to mark a date.

Every one has heard of the legend of St. Thomas the Apostle visiting the court of Gondophares, and, some add, being beheaded by his order. It may be a legend, and not one word of truth in it, but those who invented it in the second or third century must at least have had the means of knowing what was the name of the king who was on the throne of Gandhara at, or immediately after, the time of the Crucifixion. This name appears frequently on coins and inscriptions, and, from the numismatic evidence, has been placed by all as anterior{742} to Kanishka, and I fancy that no one looking at the coins can well arrive at any other conclusion. If this is so, and he was reigning at any time between A.D. 33 and 50, Kanishka certainly belongs to the latter half of that century.

Against this it must be stated that both General Cunningham and Professor Dowson read an inscription of this king found at Takht-i-Bahi, as dated in his twenty-sixth year—one says in the 103rd,[741] the other 100th,[742] of the same Samvat as the inscription of Kanishka—a date which would answer perfectly for the legend. If this is so, there is an end of the controversy; but the stone is so worn, and the writing so indistinct, that I cannot see in the photographs of it what these gentlemen find there, and others are equally unable to do so; and besides this, it is such a wrench to all numismatic evidence to place the coins of Gondophares 100 years after those of Kanishka, that we must have more evidence than this imperfect inscription affords before we adopt its epochal date. The regnal date seems quite clear.

There is one other point of view from which this question may be regarded, but which it is difficult to express clearly without going to a greater length than our limits will admit of. It is the date of the third convocation, as the northern Buddhists call it—the fourth, according to the southern. It was held certainly under Kanishka’s auspices, and I cannot help fancying about the year 70 or 80 A.D. At that time, at least, Buddhism seems to have made a great stride in Thibet, in Burmah, and the East generally. It was about this time that it was fabled to have been first carried to Java, and about the time when it was first introduced in China.[743] It looks so like one of those outbursts of missionary zeal that followed all the three previous convocations, that I cannot help fancying that this one was held in the latter half of the first century, and that the era of the king who held it was allowed in all Buddhist countries to supersede that of the Nirvana, which, as far as I can see, was the only one that had existed previously in India.

To argue this out fully would require more space than its importance for architectural purposes would justify; but its bearing on the age of the Gandhara monasteries is in some respects considerable. If they are as modern as I suspect them to be, the more modern date for Kanishka would accord better with the known facts than carrying his date up before the Christian era.

Proceeding onward, the next name we come to of any importance is Mahiracula, who is said to have invaded Ceylon. There is, how{743}ever, no trace of any such invasion at that time, which, by the application of averages would be about 180 A.D., if Kanishka ruled before, and 250 if after, the Christian Era. His date would be interesting if it could be ascertained from his connexion with Baladitya, the king of Magadha, whose story Hiouen Thsang tells in such minute detail.[744]

The Aditya dynasty opens with a king who is said to have been a kinsman of Vicramaditya, and is evidently the grandfather of the great king of that name, who figures prominently in the next dynasty as the patron of Matrigupta. The story of the latter is told in great detail in the ‘Raja Tarangini,’ and is one of the most curious episodes in the history. He was sent to Kashmir four years before the death of Vicramaditya (550), and on hearing of his patron’s decease, resigned his viceroyalty, and retired to Benares, leaving the throne to his successor, Pravarasena.

In speaking of the dynasty of Malwa, only twenty or twenty-five years were allowed for the reign of Sri Harsha, and only eighty for the whole duration, from the fall of the Guptas, 470, to the death of the great Vicramaditya, 550, a period, it seems from the evidence of the ‘Raja Tarangini,’ it is impossible to contract. Pratapaditya, the kinsman of the first, was, we are told, the great-grandfather of Megavahana, the first king of the next dynasty, and then we have one more king before we reach Hiranya, who is said to have been contemporary with the second Vicramaditya. Of course there may have been considerable overlapping at both ends, and the lives of the Kashmiri kings may have been short; but as we have six intermediate kings in the one list between the two Vicramadityas, and only one in the other, it seems that the last could hardly have ascended the throne before 515, if so early.

One of the acts of Pravarasena was to invade Siladitya, the first Ballabhi king of that name ruling in Gujerat. We have not, it is true, any dated coins or inscriptions belonging to him, but we have of his next successor but one, Sri Dharasena II., 593 (ante, p. 730), so that any date between 550 and 570 would answer perfectly well for this war, and the fact of its being so is in itself almost sufficient to establish the correctness of the chronology we are now trying to explain.

Since I wrote last on the subject, a passage has been pointed out to me[745] in Rémusat’s ‘Nouveaux Mélanges Asiatiques’ (vol. i. p. 197), which enables us to fix the chronology of the Naga dynasty within a year or two for extreme deviation. It seems that the third king, Chandrapira, applied to the Chinese Emperor for assistance against the Arabs in{744} 713, and that the Emperor conferred the title of King on him in or about 720. As he was on the throne only eight years and eight months, there is no room for deviation in this date, and it carries with it those of his predecessors and followers. It thus becomes clear that Durlabha I. was the king who was on the throne when Hiouen Thsang resided in the valley, 631-633, and also when he passed near it on his return home in 643, all which is perfectly consonant with what we find in his text; and it also fixes the date of Lalitaditya, one of the most important kings in the list, with almost absolute certainty, as 725-762.[746]

Without placing implicit reliance on all that is said in the ‘Raja Tarangini,’ with regard to the exploits of this king, or of his having overrun and conquered all India, from beyond the Himalayas to Cape Comorin, still a sufficient residuum of fact must remain to enable us to see that the troubles which had begun in 650, on the death of Siladitya of Canouge, had laid India prostrate at the feet of any daring adventurer.

From whatever side we approach it, we can hardly fail to perceive that a great revolution took place in India about the year 750. All the old dynasties are then swept away, and for 200 years we have nothing but darkness, and when light again dawns, about two centuries afterwards, the map is re-arranged, and new dynasties and new religions have taken the place of the old.

This reign, too, forms a most appropriate termination to the principal division of our architectural history. The coins of his rival, Yasoverman of Canouge, found in the great Tope at Manikyala, prove the completion of that great Buddhist monument, just 1000 years after the style had been inaugurated by the great Asoka, and in that thousand years all that is important in Buddhist architecture is included. The fact, too, of his being the builder of the great Naga temple at Marttand, the earliest, so far as I know, in Kashmir, marks the commencement of a new architectural era, the fruits of which we see when the curtain again rises. The Jaina religion, with its new style of temples, had entirely replaced Buddhist forms over the greater part of India, and the Vaishnava and Saiva religions reigned supreme everywhere else, in the forms in which we now find them, after the lapse of nearly another 1000 years’ duration. As, however, there are no chronological difficulties with regard to these later dynasties, the discussion of the dates of the kings’ reigns who built them has evidently no place in this Appendix.[747]{745}

Era of Vicramaditya.

Before concluding this Appendix, I would like to be allowed to explain an hypothesis which, if it can be sustained, not only clears up what has hitherto been a great mystery, but gets rid of a quantity of rubbish which obscures the chronology of the period. It does not, however, alter any date, nor affect them further than, if true, it confirms some, which, if it prove groundless, are deprived of its support.

No one has yet been able to point to the name of Vicramaditya as belonging to any king in the first century B.C., or to any event likely to give rise to an era being dated from it.[748] What, then, was the origin of the era dating from 56 B.C., and how did it arise and obtain its name?

My belief is that the solution of the mystery will be found in a passage in Albiruni, the meaning of which he did not profess to understand, combined with two or three passages in the ‘Raja Tarangini.’

The passage in Albiruni is to the following effect:—“L’ère de Saca, nommée par les Indiens Sacakala, est postérieure à celle de Vicramaditya de 135 ans. Saca est le nom d’un prince qui a régné sur les contrées situées entre l’Indus et la mer (le Golfe du Bengale). Sa résidence était placée au centre de l’Empire (Muttra?), dans la contrée nommée Aryavartha. Les Indiens le font naître dans une classe autre que celle des (Kchatrias?): quelques-uns prétendent qu’il était Soudra et originaire de la ville de Mansoura. Il y en a même qui disent qu’il n’était pas de race indienne, et qu’il tirait son origine des régions occidentales. Les peuples eurent beaucoup à souffrir de son despotisme, jusqu’à ce qu’il leur vînt du secours de l’Orient. Vicramaditya marcha contre lui, mit son armée en déroute, et le tua sur le territoire de Korour, situé entre Moultan et le Château de Louny. Cette époque devint célèbre, à cause de la joie que les peuples ressentirent de la mort de Saca, et on la choisit pour ère, principalement chez les astronomes.”[749]

It seems impossible to apply this narrative to any events happening in the first century B.C., not to mention the inherent absurdity of Vicramaditya establishing an era 56 B.C., and then 135 years afterwards defeating the Saka king on the banks of the Indus. If it meant anything, it might point to the origin of the Saka era, not that of Vicramaditya.{746}

Turning from this to the ‘Raja Tarangini,’ we find the following passages in Troyer’s translation:—

“Ayant fait venir ensuite, d’un autre pays, Pratapaditya, parent du roi Vicramaditya, ils le sacrèrent souverain de l’Empire.

“D’autres induits en erreur ont écrit que ce Vicramaditya fut le même qui combattit les Çakas; mais cette version est rejetée.”[750]

A little further on we have: “Dans le même temps—the death of Hiranya—l’heureux Vicramaditya, appelé d’un autre nom Harcha, réunit comme empereur à Udjdjayini l’Empire de l’Inde sous un seul parasol....

“Employant la fortune comme moyen d’utilité, il fit fleurir les talents: c’est ainsi qu’encore aujourd’hui les hommes de talent se trouvent la tête haute au milieu des riches.

“Ayant d’abord détruit les Çakas, il rendit léger le fardeau de l’œuvre de Hari, qui doit descendre sur la terre pour exterminer les Mletchhas.”[751]

Before going further, it may be as well to point out what appears to be a fair inference from the above. That the first Vicramaditya, the friend of Pratapaditya, was so near in date to the second—he, in fact, appears to have been his grandfather—as to be confounded with him, and to have the name of Sakari applied to him, which in fact belonged to his grandson, the real destroyer of the Sakas.

My conviction is, that these paragraphs refer to one and the same event; and, assuming that the battle of Korûr was fought 544—the year before Vicramaditya sent Matrigupta to be his viceroy in Kashmir—what I believe happened was this: Some time after 750, when the Hindus were remodelling their history and their institutions, so as to mark their victory over the Buddhists, they determined on establishing two eras, which should be older than that of the Buddhists, A.D. 79, and for this purpose instituted one, ten cycles of sixty years each, before the battle of Korûr, and called it by the name of the hero of that battle, the most illustrious of their history; the other ten centuries, or 1000 years before the same date, and called it by the name of his father, Sri Harsha—a title he himself often bore in conjunction with his own name—the first consequently dated for 56 B.C., the second from 456. It need hardly be added that no Sri Harsha existed in the fifth century B.C., any more than a Vicramaditya in the first.

The co-existence of these eras may be gathered from the following passage in Albiruni:{747}—

“On emploie ordinairement les ères de Sri Harscha, de Vicramaditya, de Saca, de Ballabha, et des Gouptas.” “D’après cela, en s’en tenant à l’an 400 de l’ère de Yezderdjed, on se trouve sous l’année 1488 de l’ère de Sri Harscha—l’an 1088 de l’ère de Vicramaditya—l’an 953 de l’ère de Saca—l’an 712 de l’ère de Ballabha, et de celle des Gouptas (A.D. 1032).”—‘Journal Asiatique,’ series iv. vol. iv. pp. 280, 286.

The Sri Harsha era, exactly 400 years before that of Vicramaditya, was avowedly conventional, and seems never to have come into use, and no further mention is made of it afterwards.

If this view of the matter can be sustained, the advantage will be not only that the date of the battle of Korûr, and of the expulsion of the Sakas, Hunas, Yavanas, &c., from India will be fixed with mathematical precision in 544, but that one of the greatest mysteries connected with the history of the period will be cleared up, and the revival of the Hindu religion relegated to a much later period. If, on the other hand, it can be shown that this view of the matter is not tenable, we shall lose these advantages, but it will require a great deal more than that to prove that Vicramaditya, or any Hindu king, reigned in the first century B.C. Buddhism was then in its palmiest state, and there is no trace of the Hindu religion then existing, and the expulsion of Sakas, Yavanas, and Hunas did not take place for long afterwards.

Be this as it may, having now cursorily run through the whole chronology, in so far as it admits of controversy, I feel very confident, on a calm review of the whole, that none of the important dates quoted above can be disturbed to a greater extent than say ten, or at the utmost twenty years—except, perhaps, that of Kanishka. From the Anjana epoch, 691 B.C., to the death of Lalitaditya, A.D. 761, all seems now tolerably clear and fixed, and, with a very little industry, minor blemishes might easily be swept away. If this were done, the chronology of mediæval India for the Buddhist period might be considered as fixed on a secure and immoveable basis of ascertained facts. The advantages of this being done can hardly be over-estimated for improving our knowledge of India generally, while, among other things, it would give a precision and solidity to all our speculations about that country, which, for want of it, have hitherto been generally so vague and unsatisfactory.{748}

### APPENDIX B.

The following are the last of the twenty-four Buddhas, beginning with Dipankara I., who appeared to instruct and enlighten mankind, and to whom Sakya Muni succeeds in the present Kalpa:

22. | Kakusanda, born at Khémawatinagara. His Bo-tree the Sirisia (Sirisa accasia).
23. | Kanagamma, born at Sobhawatinagara. His Bo-tree the Udambara (Ficus glomerata).
24. | Kassyapa, born at Baranasi-nagara, Benares. His Bo-tree the Nigrodha (Ficus Indica).
| Gautama, born 623 B.C., at Kapilawasta. His Bo-tree Pipphala (Ficus religiosa). [752]

### APPENDIX C.
THE TWENTY-FOUR TIRTHANKARAS OF THE JAINS.

| Name. | Distinctive Sign. | Born. | Died.
1 | Adinatha or Vrishabha | Bull | Ayodhya | Gujerat
2 | Ajitanatha | Elephant | ” | Mt. Sikhar, Chodri
3 | Sambhunatha | Horse | Sawanta | ” Parisnath
4 | Abhainandanatha | Monkey | Ayodhya | ”
5 | Sumatinatha | Chakwa (Red Goose) | ” | ”
6 | Supadmanatha | Lotus | Kausambhi | ”
7 | Suparswanatha | Swastika | Benares | ”
8 | Chandraprabha | Crescent Moon | Chandripur | ”
9 | Pushpadanta | Crocodile | Kakendrapur | ”
10 | Sitalanatha | Tree or Flower | Bhadalpur | ”
11 | Sri Ansanatha | Rhinoceros | Sindh | ”
12 | Vasupadya | Buffalo | Champapuri | Champapuri
13 | Vimalanatha | Boar | Kumpatapuri | Mt. Sikhar
14 | Anantanatha | Porcupine | Ayodhya | ”
15 | Dharmmanatha | Thunderbolt | Ratanpuri | ”
16 | Santanetha | Antelope | Hastinapura | ”
17 | Kunthanatha | Goat | ” | ”
18 | Aranatha | Fish | ” | ”
19 | Mallinatha | Pinnacle | Mithila | ”
20 | Munisuvrata | Tortoise | Rajgriha | ”
21 | Naminatha | Lotus, with stalk | Mithila | ”
22 | Neminatha | Shell | Dwarika | Mt. Girnara
23 | Parswanatha | Snake | Benares | Mt. Sikhar
24 | Vardhamana or Mahavira | Lion | Chitrakot | Pawapuri

{749}

## INDEX.

A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, Y, Z

Abhayagiri dagoba, 192.
Abu, Mount, ancient Jaina temples on, 234.
Temple of Vimala Sah, 235-237.
Adinah mosque, Gaur, 547.
Afghanistan, topes at, 72.
Caves, 107.
Agra, 572.
The Taje Mehal, 596-599.
Akbar’s mosque, 602.
Ahmedabad, temple of Shet Huttising at, 257.
Style and character of the architecture, 527.
Aiwulli, old temple at, 218.
Plan, 219.
View, 220.
Ajmir, temple at, 263.
Mosque at, 510.
Plan, 512.
Great arch, 512.
Ajunta, rock-cut Tee at, 64.
Chaitya cave, 122.
View of interior, 123.
Cross-section, 123.
Plan, 124.
View of façade, 125.
Rock-cut dagoba, 126.
Caves at, 145, 146.
Viharas, 153-159.
Akbar, architectural glories of, 574-586.
Alexander the Great, pillars ascribed to, 56.
Allahabad, lât or pillar at, 53.
Palace at, 583.
Altumsh, tomb of, 509.
Amara Deva, temple erected by, 69.
Ambêr, palace at, 480.
Amoy, pailoo at, 702.
Amravati, tope at, 71, 72.
Rail at, 93, 99-101.
Dagoba, 102.
Amritsur, golden temple at, 468.
Amwah, Jaina temple at, 250.
View of porch, 251.
Ananda, temple at, Pagan, 615.
Andher, topes at, 65.
Andra dynasty, the, 20.
Anuradhapura, ancient capital of Ceylon, 188.
The sacred Bo-tree, 189.
Foundation and present state of the city, 188, 189.
Topes, dagobas, &c., 189-195.
Great Brazen Monastery, 195.
Pillars, 196.
The Maha vihara, 657.
Arch, objection of the Hindus to the, 210.
Indian examples, 211.
See Gateways.
Architecture, Buddhist, 44.
Stambhas, or lâts, 52-56.
Stupas, 57-60.
Topes, 60-83.
Rails, 84-104.
Chaitya halls, caves, 105-144.
Vihara caves, 144-168.
Gandhara monasteries, 169-184.
Ceylon, 185-206.
Architecture, Chalukyan, 386.
Temples 388-405.
Architecture, Civil: Dravidian, 380.
Northern, or Indo-Aryan, 470-475.
Architecture, domestic, in China, 702-710.
Architecture, Dravidian, 319.
Rock-cut temples, 326-339.
Raths, 328-330.
Kylas, 334.
Temples, 340.
Palaces, 381-385.
Architecture in the Himalayas, 279.
Kashmiri temples, 283-318.
Architecture, Indian Saracenic: Ghazni, 494-500.
Pathan, 498.
Delhi, 500, 510-514.
Later Pathan, 514-519.
Jaunpore, 520-525.
Gujerat, 526-539.
Malwa, 540-544.
Bengal, 545-551.
Kalburgah, 553-556.
Bijapur, 557-567.
Scinde, 567, 568.
Mogul, 569.
Wooden, 608-610.
Architecture, Further Indian: Burmah, 611-620.
Siam, 631-636.
Java, 637-662.
Cambodia, 663-684.
Architecture, Indo-Aryan, or Northern, 406.
Temples, 411-436.
Brahmanical rock-cut temples, 437-447.
Temples, 448-464.
Architecture, Jaina, 207.
Arches, 210-212.
Domes and roofing, 212-218.
Plans, 218-221.
Sikras, 221-225.
Northern: temples, 226-251.
Towers, 252-254.
Modern: Temples, 255-260.
Caves, 261, 262.
Converted mosques, 263.
Southern Indian: colossal statues, 267, 268.
Aryans, their migration into India, and position among the Brahmans, 9-11.
The dominant people before the rise of Buddhism, 48.
Asoka, Buddhist king, his connexion with Indian architecture, 47, 52.
His missionaries into Ceylon, 199.
His edicts at Girnar, 229.
His missionaries into Burmah, 612, see 61, 65.
Atala Musjid, the, 524.
Audience hall at Bijapur, 566.
Aurungabad, mosque at, 602.
Aurungzebe, 602.
His copy of the Taje Mehal, 602.
His burial-place, 603.
Ava, modern temple at, 659, note.
Avantipore, temples at, 291.
Fragment of pillar at, 292.
{750}Ayodhya, 631.
Ayuthia, ancient capital of Siam, ruins of pagoda at, 632, 633.
Babylonia, architectural synonyms in Burmah, 618.
Ethnographical connexion, 630.
Badami, in Dharwar, Jaina cave, 261.
Dravidian and Indo-Aryan temples at, 411.
Contrast of style, 411.
Caves at, 439-441.
Plan and section, 444.
Bagh, cave at, 146.
Great vihara, 159.
Plan, 160.
Baillûr, in Mysore, great temple at, 393.
Plan, 395.
View of porch, 396.
View of pavilion, 397.
Baion, Cambodia, temples at, 679-681.
Bakeng, Mount, ruined temple at, 682.
Bancorah, Hindu temple at, 14.
Bangkok, Great Tower, 634.
Hall of audience, 635.
Barabar, Behar caves at, 108.
Baroach, mosque at, 537.
Barrolli, temple at, 449.
View and plan, 450.
Ornamented pillar, 451.
Bastian, Dr. Adolphe, Cambodian explorations of, 663.
Bayley, E. C., sculpture brought from Jamalgiri by, 169.
Bedsa, Chaitya cave, 112.
Plan and capital of pillar, 113.
View on verandah, 114.
Behar caves, 108.
Bengal, 138-144.
Benares, view and diagram of temples at, 412, 460.
View of balcony at the observatory, 481.
Bengal, caves, 138.
Its architecture and local individuality of its style, 491, 545.
Type of the modern roof, 546.
Bettu temples, 267.
Bhaja, Chaitya cave, plan, 110.
Façade, 111.
Bhaniyar, near Naoshera, temple at, 292.
View of court, 293.
Bharhut, rail at, 85-91.
Square and oblong cells, from a bas-relief at, 135.
Round temple and part of palace, 168.
Bhatgaon, Devi Bhowani temple at, 304.
Doorway of Durbar, 307.
Bhilsa Topes, 60-65.
Bhojpur, Topes at, 65.
Bhuvaneswar, great temple at, 420;
plan, 421;
view of, 422.
Great Tower, 423.
Raj Rani temple at, 424;
doorway in, 425.
Bijanagur, gateway, 211.
Bijapur, 557;
its architecture, 558.
Jumma Musjid at, 559.
Sections, 560.
Tomb of Ibrahim, 561.
Of Mahmûd, 562.
Ancient Hall, 566.
Bimeran, Tope at, 78.
Bindrabun, 462.
Plan of temple at, 463.
View, 464.
Balcony in temple, 465.
Bintonne, relic of Buddha at, 58.
Bombay, number of caves at, 107.
Boondi, palace at, 476.
Boro Buddor, Java, 643.
Plan, elevation, and section, 645.
Sections of domes, 646.
View of central entrance and stairs, 649.
Bo-tree, the sacred, 189.
Branch of it in Ceylon, 199.
At Buddh Gaya, 656.
Buddha La Monastery, Thibet, 312.
Bowlees or Reservoirs, use and architectural features of, 486.
Brahma, numerous images of, in Cambodia, 680.
Brahmanism, 323.
Brambanam, Java, group of temples at, 651.
Brazen Monastery, Anuradhapura, 195.
Buchropully, 388.
View of temple, 389.
Buddh Gaya, stupa, 69, 70.
Temple, 70.
Rail, 85.
Bas-relief from, 111.
The Sacred Tree, 199.
Buddha, period of his birth, 14.
Apportionment of his remains, 57-59.
Relic of, at Bintenne, 58.
Colossal statue of, 200, note.
His tooth, its sanctity, shrines, migrations, 58, 59, 161.
Relics of, at Rangûn, 622.
Buddhism, its founder, 15.
Secret of his success, 16.
Buddhist architecture, earliest traceable date, 48-50.
Religion dominated by it, 49.
Classification, 50.
Temple in China, 691.
Monastery at Pekin, 693.
See Architecture.
Bunds, or Dams, 486, 487.
Buribun, sculptures at, 682, note.
Burmah, architecture in, 611.
Thatún, 612.
Prome, 613.
Pagan, 614.
Circular dagobas, 619-626.
Monasteries, 626-630.
Non-use of mortar, 660.
Butwa, tomb at, 536.
Cabul, topes near, 72.
Cambay, Jumma Musjid at, 537.
Cambodia, M. Mouhot’s researches in, 663.
Labours of Dr. Bastian, 663;
of Mr. Thomson, 664;
of Captains Doudart de la Grée and Delaporte, 664.
Traditions, original immigrants, history, 665, 666.
Temple of Nakhon Wat, 666.
Temple of Baion, 679;
of Ongcor Thom, 680;
other temples, 681.
Civil architecture, 682.
Remarkable evidences of mechanical skill and civilization, 684.
Canara, stambhas at, 263.
Canouge, Jaina temple at, 263.
Mosque at, 525.
Canton, pailoo near, 700.
Canton river, “Second Bar Pagoda” on the, 696.
Capitals and columns, Tirhoot and Sankissa, 54.
Jamalgiri, 173, 176.
Caves, 106.
Geographical distribution of, 107.
Ajunta, 122, 127, 153.
Badami, 439.
Bagh, 146, 159.
Barabar, 108.
Bedsa, 112.
Behar, 108.
Bengal, 138-144.
Bhaja, 110.
Dhumnar, 131.
Ellora, 127.
Junir, 166.
Karli, 116.
Kenheri, 129.
{751}Kholvi, 132.
Salsette, 161.
Satapanni, 108.
Mode of ornamentation, 133.
Cenotaphs, 470-475.
Ceylon: Buddhist relics in, 58.
Its ancient architecture, 185-206.
See Anuradhapura.
Chaitya Halls: Buddhist temples, 105.
Examples, 109-132.
See Caves.
Chalukyans, the, 386.
Early identity of the Jains with the, 387.
Peculiarity of their style, 387.
See Architecture.
Chandragupta, the Sandrocottus of the Greeks, 17.
Chandravati, pillars at, 238.
Temple or porch, 448.
Plan, 449.
Cheras, territory occupied by the, 322.
Chillambaram, temple at, 350.
Plan, 351.
Porch of hall, 353.
Section of porch, 353.
View of ruined temple, or pagoda, 354.
China, deficiency of information, 685.
Point of divergence between its people and the Egyptians, 686.
Causes of the absence of certain classes of buildings, 686-688.
Pagodas: Temple of the Great Dragon, 689.
Buddhist temples, 691.
Taas, or towers, 695.
Tombs, 698.
Pailoos, 700.
Domestic architecture, 702-710.
Chittore, diagram of Meera Baie’s temple at, 458.
Temple of Vriji, 459.
Palace of Bhîm and Pudmandi, 476.
Chola, region forming the kingdom of, 322.
Choultrie, Tirumulla Nayak’s, 361.
Chuttries, or Cenotaphs, 470.
Civil Architecture, 470.
Cambodia, 682.
China, 702.
Cole, Lieut., explorations in Kashmir, 280.
Colombo, Hindu temple at, 332.
Combaconum, 367.
Gopura or gate pyramid at, 368.
Confucius, temples of, 689.
Conjeveram, temples and hall, 369.
Court, M., Topes opened by, 79.
Cowie, Rev. A., Kashmirian explorations of, 280.
Crystal Palace, Sydenham, Gill’s copies of Indian frescoes, 158, note.
Sculptures, 169.
Cunningham, Gen., Eastern Archæological explorations of, 54, et seqq.
Cuttack, caves at, 140, 143.
Nine-storeyed palace, 433.
Hindu bridge at, 434.
Dagobas: Amravati, 102.
Rock-cut, at Ajunta, 126.
Anuradhapura, 190-196.
Circular, of Burmah, 619.
Kong Madú, 619.
Shoëmadu, 621.
Rangûn, 623.
Mengûn, 624-626.
Dams, or bunds, 486-487.
Darunta, Jelalabad, topes at, 77.
Das Avatar, Buddhist vihara, Ellora, 165.
Dasyus, the slave people, 12.
Their architecture, 13.
Deeg, garden palace of, 481.
Hall, 482.
View from the Central Pavilion, 483.
Deepdans, or lamp pillars in the East, 336, 337.
Dehrwarra vihara, Ellora, plan of, 163.
Delai Lama, worship paid to him, 312.
Delaporte, Captain, explorations in Cambodia, 664.
Delhi, Lât at, 52.
Jaina Temple, 259.
Palace, 591.
Plan, 592.
Jumma Musjid, 601.
Delhi, Old, section, arches, and minar of the Kutub, 503-509.
Iron pillar, 507.
Interior of tomb, 509.
View of tomb, 516.
Pendentive from mosque, 519.
Deriah Doulut, the pavilion of, at Seringapatam, 604.
Dhar, mosque at, 540.
Dharwar, deepdans in, 337.
Brahmanical rock-cut temples, 437.
Dhumnar, caves at, 131, 162.
Dhumnar Lena, Ellora, Rock-cut temple at, 445.
Plan, 446.
Diggu Hublum, unfinished Mantapa at, 378.
Dimapur, monoliths at, 309.
Djeing Plateau, Java, group of small temples at, 659.
Do Tal, or Dookya Ghur, Ellora, a Buddhist vihara, 165.
Dolka, mosque at, 537.
Domes: Hindu, 212.
Indian Saracenic, 560.
Constructive diagram, 565;
Boro Buddor, 616.
Domestic architecture, Chinese, 702.
Doorways: Nepal, 305.
Hammoncondah, 390.
Bhuvaneswar, 425.
Doudart de la Grée, Captain, explorations in Cambodia, 664.
Dravidian style, 319.
Its extent, 319.
Historical notice, 320.
Religious, 323.
See Architecture.
Dravidians, the, 11.
Durbar, Bhatgaon, doorway of, 307.
Duttiah, palace at, 477.
Elaala, so-called tomb of, 189.
Ellora, caves at, 127.
Viharas, 163.
Indra Subha Cave, 262.
Kylas at, 334-337.
Dhumnar Lena Cave, 445.
Erun, lâts at, 55.
Pillar, 317.
Façades: Behar, 109, 111.
Burmah, 627.
Feroze Shah, lât rebuilt by, 52.
Futtehpore Sikri, 578.
Carved pillars in, 579.
Mosque at, 580.
Southern gateway, 581.
Gal Vihara sculptures, 200.
Ganesa Cave, Cuttack, 140.
Pillar in, 140.
Gandhara Topes, 72-76.
Monasteries, 169-184.
Ganges, the, and its ghâts, 484.
{752}Gate-pyramid at Combaconum, 368.
Gateways or Torans, 95.
Sanchi, 96.
Bijanagur, 211.
Jaunpore, 522.
Gaur, 550.
Futtehpore Sikri, 581.
Pekin, 693.
Gaudapalen, temple at, Pagan, 617.
Gaur, peculiar form of roof in, 545, 546.
Mosques, 547;
their defects, 549.
Ancient Minar, 550.
Gateways, 550.
Gautamiputra Cave, Nassick, rail at, 94.
Pillar in, 150.
Ghâts, or landing-places, 484.
Ghoosla, Benares, 485.
Ghazni, buildings of Mahmúd and his nobles, 494.
Minar at, 495.
Ornaments from the tomb of Mahmúd at, 496.
Ghoosla Ghât, the, Benares, 485.
Gill, Major, Oriental drawings by, 158, note.
Girnar, the Hill of, shrine of the Jains, 228.
Temple of Neminatha, 230.
Gopal Gunge, temple at, 467.
Gopura at Combaconum, 368.
Gualior, temple at, 244.
Teli ka Mandir temple, 452.
View, 453.
Temple of Scindiah’s mother, 461.
View, 462.
Palace, 479.
Tomb of Mahommad Ghaus, 576.
View, 577.
Gujerat, 526.
Historical account, 526, 527.
Gurusankerry, pavilion at, 274.
Stambha, 276.
Gyraspore, temple at, 249.
Hammoncondah, Metropolitan temple of, 389.
View of great doorway, 390.
Himalayas, the, architecture in, 279.
Hindu temple at Bancorah, 14
Hiouen Thsang at Amravati, 103;
at Assam, 310.
Honan, China, Buddhist temple at, 691.
Hullabîd, in Mysore, temple at, 397.
The Kait Iswara, 398.
Plan, 399.
Restored view of the temple, 400.
Its varied design, 401.
View of central pavilion, 402.
Succession of animal friezes, 403.
Humayun Shah, tomb of, at Old Delhi, 575.
Ibrahim Shah, Mosque of, at Bijapur, 559.
Imambara, the, at Lucknow, 605.
Immigrations, 25.
India, Northern, inducements to the study of its architecture, 4.
Its history, 6-29.
India, Southern, unsatisfactory records, 29.
Sculptures, 32.
Mythology, 35.
Statistics, 42.
India, Western, its architecture, 437-447.
India, Central and Northern, 448.
India, Further, 611-684.
Indian Saracenic style, 489.
Divisions of styles and their boundaries, 491-493.
See Architecture.
Indo-Aryan or Northern style, 406.
Reasons for the term, 406.
See Architecture.
Iron pillar at Kutub, 507.
Jaina Architecture, 207.
Identical with Buddhist, 207.
Region dominated by its style, 208.
See Architecture.
Jajepur on the Byturni, pillar at, 432.
Jamalgiri, plan of monastery at, 171.
Corinthian capitals from, 173.
Jarasandha Ka Baithak tope, 68.
Jaunpore, style adopted at, 520.
Plan and view of the Jumma Musjid, 522.
The Lall Durwaza Mosque, 523.
The Atala Musjid, 524.
Tombs and shrines, 525.
Java, 637.
Its history, 640.
Boro Buddor, 643-650.
Mendoet, 650.
Brambanam, 651.
Tree and Serpent temples, 653-659.
Djeing plateau, 659.
Suku, 660.
Jehangir, desecration of his tomb, 587.
Jelalabad topes, 77, 79.
Jinjûwarra, gateway, 211.
Juganât, temple of, 430.
Tower, 431.
Jumma Musjid, Jaunpore, 521.
Section and view, 522.
Ahmedabad, 527.
Plan and elevation, 528.
Malwa, 541.
Plan, 542.
Courtyard, 543.
Junaghur, tomb of the late Nawab of, 606.
Junir, caves at, 167.
Plan and section of circular, 167.
Kait Iswara, temple at Hullabîd, 397.
View, 398.
Kakusanda, one of the Buddhas, discovery of a relic of, 622.
Kalburgah, 552.
Mosque, 553.
Plan, 554.
Half elevation and view, 555.
Kallian, in Bombay harbour, Ambernath temple, 457.
Kanaruc, Orissa, Black Pagoda at, 221.
Restored elevation, 222.
Diagram, plan and section, 223.
History, 426.
Kangra, 314.
See Kote.
Kantonuggur, 465.
View, 467.
Kanwa dynasty, 19.
Kârkala, colossal statue at, 268.
Karli, cave at, 55, 116.
Section and plan, 117.
View of exterior, 118.
View of interior, 120.
Lion-pillar, 121.
Karna Chopar Cave, 108.
Kasachiel, temple of Bouddhama at, 302.
Kashmir, its architecture, 279.
Writers thereon, 280.
Peculiar form of temples and pillars, 283.
Starting-point of its architectural history, 285.
Temple of Marttand, 285-291.
Other examples, 292-297.
The ‘Raja Tarangini,’ or native history, 297.
Kasyapa, one of the Buddhas, discovery of a relic of, 622.
Kenheri Cave, the Great, near Bombay, 129.
{753}View of rail in front, 130.
Keseriah, Tirhoot, capital of, lât at, 71.
Khajurâho, temples at, 245-248, 452.
Kandarya Mahadeo, temple at, 454.
View, 455.
Plan, 456.
Kholvi, caves at, 132, 162.
Kioums, Burmese, 628.
Kiragrama, 314.
See Kote Kangra.
Kirti Stambha at Worangul, 392.
Konagamma, one of the Buddhas, relic of, 622.
Kondooty, near Bombay, chaitya cave, 108, note.
Kong Madú Dagoba, details of the, 619.
View, 620.
Kosthakar, or Nepalese temple, 303.
Kote Kangra, temples, 313.
View of temple at Kiragrama, near, 314.
Kûmûlûlû, rock-cut temple at, 339.
Kutub, the, Old Delhi, 503.
Section of colonnade at, 503.
Central range of arches, 504.
Minar, 505, 506.
Iron pillar at, 507.
Kylas at Ellora, 334-337.
Pillar in, 443.
Lahore, Jehangir’s buildings at, 587.
Lall Durwaza Mosque, Jaunpore, 523.
Lassa, monastery of Bouddha La at, 312.
Lâts, or Buddhist inscription-pillars, 52.
Examples, 53, 54.
Lomas Rishi, Behar cave, 108.
Façade and plan, 109.
Lucknow, the Imambara at, 605.
Macao, temple at, 694.
Mackenzie, Col., Indian researches and drawings by, 638.
Madras, temple on the hill of Tripetty at, 378, note.
Prevailing style in the presidency of, 385.
Mádura, Perumal pagoda at, 331.
Plan of Tirumulla Nayak’s choultrie, 361.
Pillar in, 361.
View of the hall, 363.
Great temple, 364.
The Jumbúkeswara temple, 365.
Maha vihara, the, Anuradhapura, 657.
Mahavellipore, raths of, 134, 175, 326, 330.
Pavilion at, 274.
Tiger cave at Saluvan Kuppan, 333.
Mahawanso, or Buddhist history of Ceylon, accounts of Oriental structures in the, 58, 185, 189, 195, 196, 612.
Maheswar, ghât at, 485.
Mahmúd Begurra, tomb of, near Kaira, 538.
Mahmúd of Ghazni, temple of Somnath destroyed by, 494.
Mahomedanism, migration into, and dealings with the architecture of India, 380, 526, 527.
Malwa, 540.
See Mandú.
Mandalé, monastery at, 629.
Mandú, capital of Malwa, 540.
The Jumma Musjid, 541.
Palace, 543.
Manikyala topes, 79-83.
Relic casket, 80.
Marttand, temple of, 285.
Plan, 286.
View, 287.
Central cell of court, 288.
Date, 289.
Niche with Naga figure, 290.
Soffit of arch, 291.
Masson, Mr., exploration of the Jelalabad topes by, 77-79.
Matjanpontih, serpent-temple at, 659.
Maurya dynasty, 17.
Mechanical skill of the Cambodians, 684.
Mehturi Mehal, “the Gate of the Sweeper,” 567.
Mendoet, Java, temple at, 650.
Mengûn, circular pagoda at, 624.
View, 625.
Michie, Mr. A., information derived from, 689, note.
Milkmaid’s Cave, Behar, 109.
Minars and minarets: Surkh and Chakri, Cabul, 56.
Ghazni, 495.
Kutub, 505.
Gaur, 550.
Mirzapore, Queen’s mosque at, 529.
Moggalana, relic casket of, 62.
Mogul architecture, 569.
Originality of the buildings, 569.
Works of Shere Shah, 572.
Akbar, 574-586.
Jehangir, 587-589.
Shah Jehan, 589.
Aurungzebe, 602-604.
Oude and Mysore, 604-607.
Mohammad Ghaus, tomb of, at Gualior, 576.
View, 577.
Monasteries, or viharas, 133.
Gandhara, 169.
Burmese, 626-630.
Thibetan, 312.
Pekin, 693.
Monoliths at Dimapur, 309.
Moodbidri, Jaina temple at, 271, 272.
Pillar, 273.
Tomb of priests, 275.
Mooháfiz Khan, mosque of, 532.
Mortar, non-users of, 660.
Mosques: Adinah, 549.
Agra, 596.
Ahmedabad, 527.
Ajmir, 511.
Baroach, 537.
Bijapur, 559.
Cambay, 537.
Canouge, 525.
Delhi, 601.
Dhar, 540.
Dolka, 537.
Futtehpore, 581.
Gaur, 547.
Kala Musjid, 518.
Kalburgah, 553.
Kashmir, 609.
Kutub Minar (Old Delhi), 501.
Jaunpore, 521.
Mandu, 543.
Mirzapore, 529.
Mooháfiz Khan, 532.
Sirkej, 531.
Mosques, converted, 263, 264.
Mouhot, M., researches in Cambodia, 663.
Muktagiri, Jaina temples at, 240.
Mukteswara, Orissa, temple of, 419.
Mûlot in the Salt Range, temple at, 296.
Mûti Musjid, the, or pearl mosque, 599.
View in courtyard, 600.
Muttra, rail at, 91.
Mysore, 392, 604.
Mythology of the Hindus, 35-42.
Nagas, or Snake worshippers, 10.
Head-quarters, 297.
See Kashmir, Cambodia, Nakhon Wat, Ongcor Thom.
Nahapana vihara, Nassick, 149.
Pillar in, 150.
{754}Nakhon Thom (the Great City), Cambodia, 666.
Nakhon Wat (Cambodian temple), its grand dimensions, 667.
Plan, 668.
Uncemented masonry, 669.
Elevation, 670.
Corridors, 671, 672.
General view, 675.
Pillars, 676, 677.
Multiplicity of snake-sculptures, 677.
Nankau Pass, archway in, near the Great Wall, China, 709.
Nankin, porcelain tower at, 695.
Nassick, chaitya cave at, 115.
Nat-mandir, or dancing-hall at Bhuvaneswar, 423.
Neminatha, Girnar, temple of, 230.
Nepal, 298.
Its architecture, 299.
History, 300-302.
Stupas or chaityas, 302.
Kosthakar, 303.
Temples, 304-318.
Nigope Behar cave, 108.
Ongcor Thom, temple of, 679.
Tower and sculptured masks, and tradition relating thereto, 680.
Palaces and public buildings, 682.
Orissa, fragment of a column from a temple in, 317.
History, 415.
Architecture, 417.
Earliest authentic building, 417.
Temples, 418-420.
Ornament, honeysuckle, at Allahabad, 53.
From the tomb of Mahmúd at Ghazni, 496.
Oudeypore, cenotaph of Singram Sing, 471.
In Maha Sâti at, 473.
Ourtcha, Bundelcund, palace at, 478.
Pagan, ruins of, 614.
Ananda temple, 615.
Thapinya, plan, 615.
Section, 616.
Temple of Gaudapalen and Sem Byo Koo, 617.
Pagodas, Hindu, 221, 344.
Burmese, 619-626.
Siamese, 632.
Chinese, 697.
Pailoos, or “Triumphal Gateways” of the Chinese, 700.
Near Canton, 701.
At Amoy, 702.
Palaces, 475.
Allahabad, 583.
Ambêr, 480.
Chittore, 476.
Deeg, 481.
Delhi, 591.
Duttiah, 477.
Gualior, 479.
Ourtcha, 478.
Pekin, 705.
Palitana, the Sacred Hill of Sutrunjya, near, 227.
Panataram, three-storeyed temple at, 654.
View, 655.
Serpent temple, 658.
Pandrethan, temple at, 294.
Pandyas, the, 321.
Parasurameswara, Orissa, temple of, 418.
Parisnath, 239.
Patan, temple of Mahadeo and Krishna, 306.
Paten ta Prohm, Cambodia, character of the buildings of, 667.
Temple, 681.
Pathan style, 498-513.
Later Pathan, 514-519.
Pathans, the, 498.
Historical summary, 498.
Their architectural glories and career, 499.
Examples, 503-519.
See Delhi.
Pavilions: Ceylon, 167.
Gurusankerry, 274.
Baillûr, 397.
Vijayanagar, 385.
Hullabîd, 403.
Sirkej, 532.
Pekin, 705.
Payech, Kashmiri temple at, 294.
View, 295.
Pegu, Shoëmadu pagoda at, 620.
Pekin, temple of Confucius, 689.
Temple of the Great Dragon, 689.
Gateway of monastery, 698.
Tombs, 700.
Summer palace, 705.
Winter palace, 707.
Pemiongchi, Nepal, porch of temple at, 313.
View, 314.
Pendants to domes, 216.
At Vimala Sah, 237.
Pendentive from mosque at Old Delhi, 519.
Bijapur, 564.
Peroor, near Coimbatore, date of porch, 370.
Compound pillar at, 372.
Perumal pagoda, Mádura, 331.
Pillars: Ajunta, 156.
Amravati, 101.
Avantipore, 293.
Barrolli, 451.
Ceylon, 196.
Chandravati, 238.
Cuttack, 140.
Delhi, 507.
Ellora, 443.
Erun, 317.
Futtehpore Sikri, 579.
Gautamiputra, 150.
Jajepur, 432.
Kashmir, 283.
Mádura, 361.
Moodbidri, 273.
Nahapana, 150.
Peroor, 372.
Srinagar, 284.
Vellore, 372.
Yadnya Sri, 152.
Pittadkul, plan of temple at, 221.
Temple of Papanatha at, 437.
View, 438.
Pollonarua, Ceylon, 199.
Extent and epoch of its temples, 200.
Examples, 201-203.
Poonah, Saiva temple near, 447.
Porches: Anwah, 251.
Chillambaram, 351.
Delhi, 259.
Jaina, 216.
Prome, early capital of Burmah, 613.
Provincial building, Gujerat, 537-539.
Puri, 428.
Plan of Juganât, temple at, 430.
View of tower, 431.
Purudkul, or Pittadkul, great temple of, 338.
Queen’s mosque, Mirzapore, 529.
Raffles, Sir Stamford, 638.
Rails: Amravati, 93.
Bharhut, 86.
Buddh Gaya, 85.
Dhumnar, 131.
Gautamiputra, 94.
Kenheri, 130.
Kholvi, 132.
Muttra, 91.
Sanchi, 92.
‘Raja Tarangini,’ the, or native History of Kashmir, 289, 297.
Rajputana, bund of, 486.
Rajsamundra, bund of Lake, 487.
Ramisseram, great temple at, 355.
Plan, 356.
Its dimensions, 357.
Corridors, 358.
View of central corridor, 358.
Rangûn, the Shoëdagong pagoda at, 622.
View, 623.
Rani Gumpha cave, the, 140.
Rath at Mahavellipore, 134, 175, 326, 328.
Relic worship, Buddhist, origin of, 57.
Distribution and depositaries of the relics, 58, 59, 66, 189, 195.
{755}Discoveries of, 622.
Reservoirs, or bowlees, scope for architectural display in, 486.
Roads and bridges of the Cambodians, 683.
Rock-cut temples, 437-447.
Roofing, diagrams, 213-215.
Modern curved style, 546.
Chinese, 703.
Ruanwelli dagoba, Anuradhapura, 190, 191.
Sadri, Khumbo Rana’s temple at, 240.
View, 241.
External view, beauty of details, &c., 242.
Saftar Jung, tomb of, near the Kutub, 604.
Sakya Muni, founder of Buddhism, 15.
His early life and subsequent self-mortification, 15.
Result of his appeal to his countrymen, 16.
Salsette, Durbar cave at, 147.
Kenheri caves, 161.
Saluvan Kuppan Tiger Cave, 333.
Sanchi, great tope, 61, 63.
View, plan, section, and details, 63.
Rails at, 92, 93.
Gateways, 95-97.
Small tope, 98.
Torans, 99.
Chaitya hall, 105.
Sankissa, capital of a lât at, 54.
Sariputra, relic-casket of, 62.
Sarnath, tope at, 65-68.
Vihara, 173.
Satapanni cave, 108.
Satdhara topes, 64.
Sat Ghurba cave, 108.
Scinde, tombs in, 567.
Sculptures, 32-35.
In the Gandhara monasteries, 176, 177.
Secundra, Akbar’s tomb at, 583.
Plan, 584.
Diagram section, 585.
View, 586.
Seringham, pillared hall at, 347.
View of temple, 349.
Serpent temples, 653.
Serpent-worship, 266.
Shah Dehri, plan of Ionic monastery at, 176.
Ionic pillar, 176.
Shah Hamadan, mosque of, Srinugger, 608.
Shah Jehan, 589.
Palace at Delhi, 591.
Taje Mehal, 595.
The Mûti Musjid, 599.
Shepree, near Gualior, Pathan tomb at, 515.
Shere Shah, works of, 572.
Tomb, 573.
Shoëdagong Pagoda at Rangûn, 622.
Shoëmadu, Pegu, the Great Pagoda at, 620.
View and plan, 621.
Siam, early and present capitals, 631.
Ayuthia, 632.
Bangkok, 634.
Sikras, or Vimanas, 221-225.
Sirkej, tombs and mosque at, 531.
Pavilion, 532.
Sisunaga dynasty, 14.
Siva, serpent of, 41, note.
Snake sculptures, 676, 677.
Somnath, Girnar, temple, 232.
Somnathpûr in Mysore, temple at, 393.
View, 394.
Sonaghur, Bundelcund, Jaina temple at, 256.
Sonari topes, 64.
Soubramanya, temple at Tanjore, 345.
Sravana Belgula, colossal statue at, 267.
Bastis, 269.
View, 270.
Sri Allat, tower of, at Chittore, 251.
View, 252.
Srinagar, Kashmir, pillar at, 284.
Srinugger, Jumma Musjid at, 608.
Shah Hamadan Mosque, 608.
View, 609.
Stambhas, 52.
At Gurusankerry, 276.
They illustrate the rise and progress of Indian architecture, 277.
See Lâts.
Statues: Seperawa, 200.
Sravana Belgula, 267.
Kârkala, 268.
Yannûr, 268.
St. Stephen’s, Walbrook, resemblance to Hindu plans, 218.
Stupas, or Topes, 57.
See Topes.
Stupas, or Chaityas, Nepal, 302.
Sudama, or Nigope Cave, 108.
Suku, Java, group of temples, 660.
Their likeness to contemporary edifices in Yucatan and Mexico, 661.
Sultangunge, near Monghyr, vihara at, 137.
Sultanpore, tope at, 78.
Small model found in the tope, 126.
Sunga dynasty, 19.
Surkh Minar, Cabul, 56.
Swayambunath, Nepal, temple, 302.
Taas of the Chinese, 695.
Taje Mehal, the, 595.
View, 596.
Plan and section, 597.
Details, inlayings of precious stones, &c., 598.
Takht-i-Bahi, plan of monastery at, 171.
Takt-i-Suleiman, Kashmir, Hindu temple at, 282.
Tanjore, diagram plan of pagoda at, 343.
View of Great Pagoda, 344.
Temple of Soubramanya, 345.
Tarputry, temples at, 375.
Views of gopura, 376, 377.
Tassiding, doorway of Nepalese temple at, 313.
Tatta, tomb of Nawab Amir Khan near, 568.
Teen Tal, a Buddhist vihara, at Ellora, 165.
Tees in rock-cut temples, 64.
At Ajunta, 64.
Tejpala and Vastupala, triple temple at, Girnar, 232.
Temples: Abu, 234.
Ahmedabad, 257.
Aiwulli, 218.
Ajmir, 263.
Amritsur, 468.
Amwah, 250.
Avantipore, 292.
Badami, 411.
Baillûr, 393.
Bakeng (Mount), 682.
Bancorah, 14.
Barrolli, 449.
Benares, 412, 459.
Bhanghur, 250.
Bhaniyar, 292.
Bharput, 168.
Bhatgaon, 304.
Bhuvaneswar, 418.
Bindrabun, 464.
Boro Buddor, 643.
Brambanam, 651.
Buchropully, 389.
Cambodia, 666.
Canouge, 263.
Chandravati, 448.
{756}Chillambaram, 350.
Chinese, 689, 694.
Chittore, 459.
Colombo, 332.
Combaconum, 367.
Delhi, 259.
Djeing Plateau, 659.
Gaudapalen, 617.
Girnar, 230.
Gualior, 244, 453, 462.
Gyraspore, 249.
Hammoncondah, 390.
Hullabîd, 397.
Java, 650.
Kanaruc, 426.
Kantonuggur, 467.
Khajurâho, 245, 455.
Kiragrama, 316.
Mádura, 359.
Marttand, 285.
Mendoet, 650.
Moodbidri, 271.
Mûlot, 297.
Nepal, 302.
Pagan, 615.
Pandrethan, 294.
Patan, 306.
Payech, 295.
Pemiongchi, 314.
Pittadkul, 221, 438.
Poonah, 446.
Puri (Juganât), 431.
Ramisseram, 355.
Sadri, 240.
Seringham, 347.
Sonaghur, 256.
Somnathpûr, 394.
Sravana Belgula, 270.
Suku, 660.
Tanjore, 344.
Tassiding, 313.
Tinnevelly, 366.
Tiruvalur, 346.
Udaipur, 457.
Vellore, 371.
Vijayanagar, 375.
Tennent, Sir Emerson, works on Ceylon by, 185, 200.
Thapinya, temple of, at Pagan, 615.
Section, 616.
Thatún, pagoda at, 613.
Thibet, exclusion of travellers, number and character of its monasteries, 311.
The Delai Lama, and the worship paid to him, 312.
See Nepal.
Thomson, Mr. J., his photographs of the Great Temple of Nakhon Wat, 671, 672, 675-677.
Thuparamaya Tope, Buddhist relic-shrine, 192.
Tiger-cave at Cuttack, 143.
At Saluvan Kuppan, 333.
Tinnevelly, temple at, 366.
Dimensions, details, &c., 367.
Tirhoot, lâts, or inscribed pillars at, 53.
Capital, 54.
Tirthankars, Jaina Saints, 208, 331.
Tirumulla Nayak’s choultrie, 361.
Dimensions, cost, and ornamentation, 362.
View, 363.
Tombs: Bijapur, 561.
Butwa, 536.
Chinese, 698.
Delhi (Old), 509, 516.
Gualior, 577.
Gujerat, 534.
Lucknow, 606.
Moodbidri, 275.
Secundra, 584.
Shepree, near Gualior, 515.
Sirkej, 531.
Tatta, 568.
Tooth of Buddha, its sanctity, shrines, migrations, &c., 58, 59, 161.
Topes or stupas of the Buddhists, their form and purpose, 58.
Bhilsa group, 61.
Example at Sanchi, 63.
Invariable accompaniments to these structures, 64.
Sarnath and Behar, 66-68.
The Jarasandha Ka Baithak, 68, 69.
Buddh Gaya, 69, 70.
Amravati, 71, 72.
Gandhara, 72-76.
Jelalabad group, 77.
Bimeran, 78.
Sultanpore, 78.
Manikyala, 79-83.
Torans, 95.
See Gateways.
Towers: Bangkok, 653.
Chittore, 253.
Nankin, 695.
Ongcor Thom, 680.
Tree and Serpent temples, 653.
Tree-worship, 266.
Trisul emblem at Amravati, 104.
Tung Chow pagoda, 697.
Udaipur, temple at, 456.
View, 457.
Udayagiri, Cuttack, caves at, 138.
Ujjain dynasty, 22.
Ulwar, tomb of Rajah Baktawar at, 474.
Umbrella ornaments on topes, 64, 80, 125, 126.
Vellore, near Coimbatore, 370.
View of portico of temple, 371.
Compound pillar, 372.
Ventura, General, topes opened by, 79, 81.
Victory, Tower of, at Chittore, 253.
Vigne’s travels in Kashmir, 280.
Viharas, or monasteries, 133.
Diagram, 134.
Nalanda, 136.
Sultangunge, 137.
Sarnath, 137.
Viharas, 144-147.
Nassick, 147-151.
Ajunta, 153-159.
Bagh, 159, 160.
Ellora, 163.
Vijayanagar, 373.
Destroyed by the Mahomedans, 374.
View of temple of Vitoba at, 375.
Garden pavilion, 384.
Palace, 385.
Vimala Sah, temple of, 235.
Vimanas, or Sikras, 221-225.
Vishveshwar temple, Benares, 459.
View, 460.
Viswakarma Cave, Ellora, 128.
Vitoba, temple of, at Vijayanagar, 375.
Wall, Great, in China, 708.
Waniyat, Kashmir, group of temples at, 293.
Well-holes in temples, 654, 656.
Window at Ahmedabad, 533.
Wooden architecture, Kashmir, 608.
Mosques at Srinugger, 608.
Wooden temples, similarity to the wooden architecture of Sweden and Norway, 308.
Worangul, Kirti Stambhas in, 391.
View, 392.
Yadnya Sri cave, Nassick, 151.
Pillar in, 152.
Yannûr, colossal statue at, 268.
Zein-ul-ab-ud-dín, tomb of, 281.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] ‘History of Architecture in all Countries.’ 2nd ed. Murray, 1867.

[2] ‘History of Architecture,’ vol. ii. pp. 445-756, Woodcuts 966-1163.

[3] A distinguished German professor, Herr Kinkel of Zürich, in his ‘Mosaik zur Kunstgeschichte, Berlin, 1876,’ has lately adopted my views with regard to the age of Stonehenge without any reservation, though arriving at that conclusion by a very different chain of reasoning from that I was led to adopt.

[4] The following brief résumé of the principal events in the ancient history of India has no pretensions to being a complete or exhaustive view of the subject. It is intended only as such a popular sketch as shall enable the general reader to grasp the main features of the story to such an extent as may enable him to understand what follows. In order to make it readable, all references and all proofs of disputed facts have been postponed. They will be found in the body of the work, where they are more appropriate, and the data on which the principal disputed dates are fixed will be found in an Appendix especially devoted to their discussion. Unfortunately no book exists to which the reader could with advantage be referred; and without some such introductory notice of the political history and ethnography the artistic history would be nearly, if not wholly, unintelligible.

[5] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xv. p. i.

[6] Almost the only person who has of late done anything in this direction is Sir Walter Elliot. His papers in the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society’ and the ‘Madras Journal’ throw immense light on the subject, but to complete the task we want many workers instead of only one.

[7] All this has been so fully gone into by me in my work on ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ pp. 63, et seqq., that it will not be necessary to repeat it here.

[8] Dr. Caldwell, the author of the ‘Dravidian Grammar,’ is the greatest and most trustworthy advocate of this view.

[9] ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ pp. 244-247.

[10] In Arrian there is a curious passage which seems certainly to refer to this people. “During the space,” he says, “of 6042 years in which the 153 monarchs reigned, the Indians had the liberty of being governed by their own laws only twice, once for about 200 years, and after that for about 120 years.”—‘Indica,’ ch. ix. The Puranas, as may be supposed, do not help us to identify these two periods.

[11] I cannot help fancying that they occupied some part of southern India, and even Ceylon, before the arrival of the Dravidians. It seems difficult otherwise to account for the connection between Behar and Ceylon in early ages, and the spread of Buddhism in that island leaping over the countries which had been Dravidianised.

[12] I cannot help suspecting that the Gonds also belong to this northern race. It is true they speak a language closely allied to the Tamil; but language, though invaluable as a guide, is nearly useless as a test of affinity. The Romans imposed their language on all the diverse nationalities of Italy, France, and Spain. We have imposed ours on the Cornish, and are fast teaching the Irish, Welsh, and Highlanders of Scotland to abandon their tongue for ours, and the process is rapidly going on elsewhere. The manners and customs of the Gonds are all similar to those of the Coles or Khonds, though, it is true, they speak a Dravidian tongue.

[13] The most pleasing of the histories of Buddha, written wholly from a European point of view, is that of Barthélemy St. Hilaire, Paris. Of those partially native, partly European, are those of Bishop Bigandet, from the Burmese legends, and the ‘Romantic History of Buddha,’ translated from the Chinese by the Rev. S. Beal. The ‘Lalita Vistara,’ translated by Foucaud, is more modern than these, and consequently more fabulous and absurd.

[14] There may possibly be an error of forty to sixty years in this date; but, on the whole, that here given is supported by the greatest amount of concurrent testimony, and may, after all, prove to be minutely correct.

[15] ‘Foé Koué Ki,’ xxv. ch. 11; ‘Mahawanso,’ v. p. 20; ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vi. 527.

[16]

One coin at least of the period is well known. It belongs to a king called Kunanda or Krananda, generally assumed to be one of the nine Nandas with whom this dynasty closed. In the centre, on one side, is a Dagoba with the usual Buddhist Trisul emblem over it, and a serpent below it; on the right the Sacred Tree, on the left a Swastica with an altar? on the other side a lady with a lotus (Sri?) with an animal usually called a deer, but from its tail more probably a horse, with two serpents standing on their tails over its head, which have been mistaken for horns. Over the animal is an altar, with an umbrella over it. In fact, a complete epitome of emblems known on the monuments of the period, but savouring much more of Tree and Serpent worship than of Buddhism, as it is now known. ‘Journal of the Koyal Asiatic Society,’ vol. i. (N.S.) p. 447, et seqq.

[17] All these particulars, it need hardly be said, are taken from the 12th and 15th chapters of the ‘Mahawanso,’ confirmed by the inscriptions themselves and the relics found at Sanchi, to all which reference will be made hereafter.

[18] Wilson’s ‘Hindu Drama,’ vol. xii. p. 151, et seqq., edition 1871.

[19] Lassen, it is true, brings these dates down by ten years below where I have placed it. But he overlooks the fact that according to his hypothesis Asoka, in the sixteenth year of his reign, would claim Magas as his ally ten or twelve years after his death, which is improbable.

[20] For complete details of these two monuments and the dates, the reader is referred to my ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ which is practically devoted to a description of these two monuments.

[21] ‘Vie et Voyages de Hiouen Thsang,’ i. p. 215. It need hardly be said that all these particulars are taken from the three volumes relating his Indian experiences, translated by Stanislas Julien.

[22] This does not apply to Orissa, which, from its remote situation, and having at that time no resident Buddhist population, seems to have escaped being drawn into the vortex of these troubles.

[23] The best and most accepted account of these events is found in Vivien de St. Martin’s ‘Les Huns blancs,’ Paris, 1849.

[24] Cunningham’s ‘Numismatic Chron.,’ viii. 175; ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vii. 704; Lassen’s ‘Indische Alterth.,’ ii. p. 24.

[25] I wrote a paper stating the evidence in favour of this last view, which I intended should appear in the ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society.’ The evidence being, however, incomplete, it has only been printed for private circulation.

[26] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. viii. p. 28.

[27] Ibid., vol. v. p. 42.

[28] The argument on which these assertions are founded is stated at length in the privately printed pamphlet alluded to on preceding page. It is too long to insert here, but, if not published before this work is complete, an abstract will be inserted in the Appendix.

[29] ‘Journal of the Koyal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iii. p. 202.

[30] For an exhaustive description of this subject see Priaulx, ‘India and Rome,’ London, 1873. My own impressions are, I confess, entirely in favour of the northern origin of the embassy. We are now in a position to prove an intimate connection between the north of India and Rome at that time. With the south it seems to have been only trade, but of this hereafter.

[31] ‘Dravidian Grammar,’ second edition, London, 1875, p. 129, et seqq.

[32] Sir Walter Elliot and others frequently speak of Buddhist monuments in the south. I have never, however, been able to see a photograph or drawing of any one except at Amravati and its neighbourhood.

[33] In his ‘Elements of South Indian Palæography,’ Mr. Burnell, the last and best authority on the subject, divides the South Indian alphabet into Chera, Chalukya, and Vengi. The first, he states, appears in Mysore in the second half of the 5th century. The oldest specimen of the second he dates from the first half of that century. The third is more modern.

[34] I am, of course, aware of the existence of a so-called Buddhist pagoda at Negapatam. It was, however, utilised by the British—for railway purposes, I believe—before it was photographed, so its history may for ever remain a mystery. On the spot it was apparently known as the Jaina (hence China) pagoda, which it may have been. To me it looks like the gopura of a small Hindu temple, but I have no real knowledge on the subject. See Yule’s ‘Marco Polo,’ vol. ii. p. 320, second edition.

[35] ‘Storia della Scultura, dal suo risorgimento in Italia sino al secolo di Napoleone,’ Venezia, 1813.

[36] “The ritual of the Veda is chiefly, if not wholly, addressed to the elements, particularly to fire.”—H. H. Wilson, ‘Asiatic Researches,’ xvii. p. 194; ibid., p. 614.

[37] A list of the twenty-four Buddhas, with these particulars, is given in the introduction to Tumour’s ‘Mahawanso,’ p. 32. Representations of six or seven of these Bodhi-trees, with the names attached, have been found at Bharhut, showing at least that more than four were recognised in the time of Asoka. If the rail there were entire, it is probable representations of the whole might be found.

[38] Stobæus, ‘Physica,’ Gaisford’s edition, p. 54. See also Priaulx, ‘India and Rome,’ p. 153.

[39] Wilson’s ‘Ariana Antiqua,’ plates 10, 11.

[40] A book has recently been published by the late Mr. Breeks, of the Madras Civil Service, on the primitive tribes of the Nilagiris, which gives a fuller account of these ‘rude stone monuments’ than any other yet given to the public. It can hardly, however, be accepted as a solution of the problem, which requires a wider survey than he was able to make.

[41] The serpent of Siva is always a cobra, or poisonous snake, and used by him as an awe-inspiring weapon, a very different animal from the many-headed tutelary Naga, the guardian angel of mankind, and regarded only with feelings of love and veneration by his votaries. It may also be remarked that no tree is appropriated to Siva, and no trace of tree worship mingled with the various forms of adoration paid to this divinity—a circumstance in itself quite sufficient to distinguish this form of faith from that of the Dasyu group which pervaded the valley of the Ganges.

[42] Page 41. Dr. Cornish, in the introduction to the ‘Madras Statistical Tables,’ p. 67, states this at only 30,000,000—a very considerable difference; but on the whole I am inclined to place faith in Dr. Caldwell’s figures.

[43] ‘Madras Report,’ p. 90.

[44] These remarks must not be taken as applying to sculpture also. It is quite true that no stone sculptures have yet been found in India of an earlier date than the age of Asoka; but, as will be seen in the sequel, the perfection the Indian artists had attained in stone sculpture when they executed the bas-reliefs at Bharhut (B.C. 200), shows a familiarity with the material that could only be attained by long practice.

[45] No mention of temples, or, indeed, of buildings is, I believe, found in the Vedas, and though both are frequently alluded to, and described in the Epic Poems and the Puranas, this hardly helps us; first because, like all verbal descriptions of buildings, they are too vague to be intelligible, and secondly, because there is no proof that the passages containing these descriptions may not have been interpolated after—probably long after—the Christian Era.

[46] I believe I was the first to ascertain these facts from a personal inspection of the monuments themselves. They were communicated to the Royal Asiatic Society in a paper I read on the ‘Rock-cut Temples of India,’ in 1842. Every subsequent research, and every increase of our knowledge, has tended to confirm those views to such an extent that they are not now disputed by any one acquainted with the literature of the subject, though some writers do still indulge in rhapsodies about the primæval antiquity of the caves, and their connection with those of Egypt, &c. Till all this is put on one side, no clear idea can be obtained of the true position of the art in India.

[47] From two Sanscrit words, Dhatu, a relic, and Garbha (Pali, Gabbhan), the womb, receptacle, shrine of a relic. (Turnour, ‘Mahawanso,’ p. 5.) The word Pagoda is probably a corruption of Dagoba.

[48] In Nepal, according to Hodgson, and, I believe, in Thibet, the monuments which are called Stupas in India are there called Chaityas. Etymologically, this is no doubt the correct designation, as Chaitya, like Stupa, means primarily a heap or tumulus, but it also means a place of sacrifice or religious worship—an altar from Chíta, a heap, an assemblage, a multitude, &c. (Monier Williams’ ‘Sanscrit Dictionary’ sub voce). Properly speaking, therefore, these caves ought perhaps to be called “halls containing a chaitya,” or “chaitya halls,” and this latter term will consequently be used wherever any ambiguity is likely to arise from the use of the simple term Chaitya.

[49] These inscriptions have been published in various forms and at various times by the Asiatic Societies of Calcutta and London (‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vi. p. 566, et seqq.; ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. xii. p. 153, et seqq.) and in various other publications, but always mixed up with extraneous matters. It is, however, very much to be regretted that a carefully-edited translation is not issued in some separate form easily accessible to the general public. An absolutely authentic and unaltered body of Buddhist doctrine, as it stood 250 years before the birth of Christ, would be one of the most valuable contributions possible to the religious history of the modern world, and so much has been already done that the task does not seem difficult. Among other things, they explain to us negatively why we have so little history in India in these days. Asoka is only busied about doctrines. He does not even mention his father’s name; and makes no allusion to any historical event, not even those connected with the life of the founder of the religion. Among a people so careless of genealogy, history is impossible.

[50] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vi. p. 794.

[51] Ibid., plate 40.

[52] Ibid., p. 969, et seqq.

[53] These dimensions are taken from Capt. Burt’s drawings published in the ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. iii. plate 3.

[54] ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ plates 9, 10, 10a, et passim.

[55] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. i. p. 274, plate 46.

[56] ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ plates 1 and 5, and plates 89 and 90.

[57] Ibid., plate 42.

[58] In the description accompanying Daniell’s view of this cave he says: “On the pillars to the right, above the capital, is a group of lions, from the centre of which a few years since arose the chacra, or war disk of Vichnou, though not the least appearance of it at present remains.” On the left he remarked a figure of Buddha, which he mistook for Mahadeva, and in another part a row of bulls, and he adds: “The Chacra of Vichnou, the Mahadeva, and the bulls, seem not to favour the opinion of its being a temple of the Bhoods.” He was not aware how inextricably these religions were mixed up at the time when this cave was excavated, about A.D. 400.

[59] Turnour in ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vii., p. 1013.

The fame of this distribution seems to have reached Europe at least as early as the 1st century of the Christian Era, inasmuch as Plutarch (‘Moralia,’ p. 1002, Dübner edition, Paris, 1841) describes a similar partition of the remains of Menander, among eight cities who are said to have desired to possess his remains; but as he does not hint that it was for purposes of worship, the significance of the fact does not seem to have been appreciated.

[60] ‘Mahawanso,’ p. 26, ‘Hiouen Thsang,’ vol. ii. p. 417.

[61] Account of the great bell at Rangoon, Hough, ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xiv. p. 270.

[62] Abstracted from Turnour’s ‘Mahawanso,’ p. 4.

[63] There may be an error in this date to the extent of its being from fifteen to twenty years too early.

[64] The principal particulars of this story are contained in a Cingalese work called the ‘Daladavamsa,’ recently translated by Sir Mutu Comara Swamy. I have collected the further evidence on this subject in a paper I read to the Asiatic Society, and published in their ‘Journal’ (N.S.), vol. iii p. 132, et. seqq., and again in ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ p. 174, et. seqq.

[65] The date being given as 245, Samvat has generally been assumed to be dated from the era of Vicramaditya. I am not aware, however, of any inscription of so early an age being dated from that era, nor of any Buddhist inscription in which it is used either then or thereafter.

[66] The same fate had overtaken another tooth relic at Nagrak in northern India. Fa Hian, B.C. 400, describes it as perfect in his 13th chapter. ‘Hiouen Thsang,’ vol. ii. p. 97, describes the stupa as ruined, and the tooth having disappeared.

[67] For a translation, &c., see ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. v. p. 33. See also Bird, ‘Historical Researches,’ Bombay, 1847.

[68] ‘Foé Koué Ki,’ ch. xii. p. 77.

[69] ‘Hiouen Thsang,’ vol. i. p. 83.

[70] ‘Foé Koué Ki,’ p. 353. A detailed account of its transference from the true Gandhara—Peshawur—to the new Gandhara in Kandahar will be found in a paper by Sir Henry Rawlinson, ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. xi. p. 127.

[71] Among the bas-reliefs of the Bharhut tope is one representing just such a domical roof as this (Woodcut No. 90). It is not, however, quite easy to make out its plan, nor to feel sure whether the object on the altar is a relic, or whether it may not be some other kind of offering.

[72] ‘Bhilsa Topes, or Buddhist Monuments in Central India,’ Smith, Elder, and Co., 1854. One half of my work on ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ and forty-five of its plates, besides woodcuts, are devoted to the illustration of the great Tope; and numerous papers have appeared on the same subject in the ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society’ and elsewhere. A cast of the eastern gateway is in the South Kensington Museum.

[73] ‘Mahawanso,’ p. 76. See also ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ p. 99, et seqq., where all this is more fully set out than is necessary here.

[74] Cunningham, ‘Bhilsa Topes,’ p. 299, et seqq.

[75] The Chandragupta inscription on the rail near the eastern gateway (‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. ii. p. 454) is evidently a subsequent addition, and belongs to the year A.D. 400.

[76] These views, plans, &c., are taken from a Memoir by Capt. J. D. Cunningham, ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ August, 1847.

[77] As all the particulars regarding all these topes, except the great one and No. 3 of Sanchi, are taken from Gen. Cunningham’s work entitled ‘Bhilsa Topes,’ published by Smith and Elder, in one volume 8vo., in 1854, it has not been thought necessary to repeat the reference at every statement.

[78] These dimensions and details are taken from Gen. Cunningham’s ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. i. p. 107, et seqq.

[79] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. ix. p. 203.

[80] See also paper by Vesy Westmacott, ‘Calcutta Review,’ 1874, vol. lix. p. 68.

[81] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. i. p. 17.

[82] Ibid., p. 19.

[83] ‘Hiouen Thsang,’ vol. iii. p. 60.

[84] Buchanan Hamilton was told by the priests on the spot, in 1811, that it was planted there 2225 years ago, or B.C. 414, and that the temple was built 126 years afterwards, or in 289. Not a bad guess for Asoka’s age in a locality where Buddhism has been so long forgotten. Montgomery Martin’s ‘Eastern India,’ vol. i. p. 76.

[85] ‘Hiouen Thsang,’ vol. ii. pp. 464-468.

[86] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. i. p. 5.

[87] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ 1834, vol. iv. p. 214. See also Cunningham, ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. i. p. 5, et seqq.

[88] ‘Hiouen Thsang, Festival of the three Religions at Allahabad in 643,’ vol. i. p. 254.

[89] A view of it is given, ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. iv. p. 122.

[90] Beal’s ‘Fa Hian,’ p. 35.

[91] ‘Vie et Voyages de Hiouen Thsang,’ vol. i. p. 83.

[92] De Guigne’s ‘Histoire des Huns,’ vol. ii. p. 40, et seqq.

[93] ‘Mahawanso,’ p. 71.

[94] ‘Ariana Antiqua,’ p. 43.

[95] ‘Ariana Antiqua,’ plate 10.

[96] Vassilief, ‘Le Bouddhisme, ses Dogmes,’ &c., Paris, 1865, p. 31, et passim. He spells the words Makhaiana and Khinaiana.

[97] Beal’s translation, p. 26.

[98] Honigberger, ‘Reise.’

[99] Mr. Masson’s account was communicated to Professor Wilson, and by him published in his ‘Ariana Antiqua,’ with lithographs from Mr. Masson’s sketches which, though not so detailed as we could wish, are still sufficient to render their form and appearance intelligible.

[100] The length of time over which these coins range—more than 200 years—is sufficient to warn us what caution is requisite in fixing the date of buildings from their deposits. A tope cannot be earlier than the coins deposited in it, but, as in this case, it may be one or two hundred years more modern.

[101] ‘Ariana Antiqua,’ p. 109.

[102] Thomas in ‘Prinsep,’ vol. i. p. 144.

[103] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. iii. p. 559.

[104] Thomas in ‘Prinsep,’ p. 148.

[105] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. ii. p. 167, plate 65.

[106] Thomas’s ‘Prinsep,’ vol. i. p. 94.

[107] In the text it is certainly printed “three” with a reference to 19 in the plate 21 of vol. iii. The latter is undoubtedly a misprint, and I cannot help believing the former is so also, as only one fragment is figured; and Prinsep complains more than once of the state of the French MS. from which he was compiling his account. I observe that General Cunningham, in his volume just received, adopts the same views. At p. 78, vol. v., he says: “I have a strong suspicion that General Ventura’s record of three Sassanian coins having been found below deposit B may be erroneous.”

[108] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. iii. plate 21, fig. 18.

[109] ‘Foé Koué Ki,’ chap. xiii.

[110] ‘Fa Hian,’ Beal’s translation, p. 32. ‘Hiouen Thsang,’ vol. i. p. 89.

[111] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. ii. p. 172.

[112] ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ Preface to the First Edition.

[113] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. i. p. 10.

[114] ‘Memorandum,’ dated 13th April, 1874, printed by the Bengal Government, but not published.

[115] ‘Voyages dans les Contrées Occidentales,’ vol. i. p. 465.

[116] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. i. plates 8 to 11.

[117] For this last determination, see ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ p. 99, et seqq.

[118] It is to be hoped that when Gen. Cunningham publishes the volume he is preparing on the Bharhut Tope, he will add photographs of the pillars of this rail. It would add immensely to the value of his work if it afforded the means of comparing the two. Some illustrations of the sculpture from Major Kittoe’s drawings will be found in ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ woodcuts 7, 20, 24. Two of them are reproduced here, the first representing a man on his knees before an altar worshipping a tree, while a flying figure brings a garland to adorn it. The other represents a relic casket, over which a seven-headed Naga spreads his hood, and over him an umbrella of state. There are, besides, two trees in a sacred enclosure, and another casket with three umbrellas (Woodcuts Nos. 25, 26). They are from drawings by Major Kittoe.

[119] ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ p. 99, et seqq.

[120] When I wrote my work on ‘Tree and Serpent Worship’ nothing was practically known as to the age of the jatakas, or the early form in which they were represented; much, therefore, that was then advanced was, or at least appeared to others to be, mere guess work, or daring speculation. It is, consequently, no small satisfaction to me to find that this subsequent discovery of a monument 200 years earlier does not force me to unsay a single word I then said. On the contrary, everything I then advanced is confirmed, and these inscriptions render certain what before their discovery was necessarily sometimes deficient in proof.

[121] The following outline (Woodcut No. 28, on the next page) of one of the bas-reliefs on a pillar at Bharhut may serve to convey an idea of the style of art and of the quaint way in which the stories are there told. On the left, a king with a five-headed snake-hood is represented, kneeling before an altar strewn with flowers, behind which is a tree (Sirisa Accasia?) hung with garlands. Behind him is an inscription to this effect, “Erapatra the Naga Raja worships the Divinity (Bhagavat).” Above him is the great five-headed Naga himself, rising from a lake. To its right a man in the robes of a priest standing up to his middle in the water, and above the Naga a female genius, apparently floating in the air. Below is another Naga Raja, with his quintuple snake-hood, and behind him two females with a single snake at the back of their heads—an arrangement which is universal in all Naga sculpture. They are standing up to their waists in water. If we may depend on the inscription below him, this is Erapatra twice over, and the females his two wives. I should, however, rather be inclined to fancy there were two Naga Rajas represented with their two wives.

This bas-relief is further interesting as being an epitome of my work on ‘Tree and Serpent Worship.’ As expressing in the shortest possible compass nearly all that is said there at length, it will also serve to explain much that is advanced in the following pages. As it is 200 years older than anything that was known when that book was written, it is a confirmation of its theories, as satisfactory as it is complete.

[122] ‘Mahawanso,’ Introduction, p. 32.

[123] Outlines of these sculptures are given in General Cunningham’s third volume of his ‘Reports,’ plate 6. I have photographs of the whole, which represent what is omitted in the lithographs.

[124] General Cunningham collected and translated 196 inscriptions from this tope, which will be found in his work on the Bhilsa Topes, p. 235, et seqq., plates 16-19.

[125] The details from which these determinations are arrived at will be found in ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ p. 98, et seqq. It is consequently not necessary to repeat them here.

[126] It is very much to be regretted that when Lieut. Cole had the opportunity he did not take a cast of this one instead of the eastern. It is far more complete, and its sculptures more interesting.

[127] For details of these sculptures and references, I must refer the reader to my work on ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ where they are all represented and described in great detail. Sculptures do not, strictly speaking, belong to this work, and, except for historical purposes, are not generally alluded to.

[128] They must certainly have been very common in India, for, though only one representation of them has been detected among the sculptures at Sanchi (‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ plate 27, fig. 2), at least ten representations of them are found at Amravati, plates 59 (fig. 2), 60 (fig. 1), 63 (fig. 3), 64 (fig. 1), 69, 83 (fig. 2), 85 (figs. 1 and 2), 96 (fig. 3), 98 (fig. 2), and no doubt many more may yet be found.

[129] ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ Appendix I. p. 270.

[130] In Burmah at the present day a roll precisely similar to this, formed of coloured muslin, distended by light bamboo hoops, is borne on men’s shoulders in the same manner as shown here, on each side of the procession that accompanies a high priest or other ecclesiastical dignitary to the grave.

[131] For the reasons of the following determination and other particulars, the reader is referred to my work on ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ where the whole are set out at length. A short account of the tope will also be found in the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iii. (N. S.) p. 132, et seqq.

[132] ‘Histoire de Hiouen Thsang,’ traduite par Julien, vol. i. p. 188.

[133] It is probable that a tolerably correct idea of the general exterior appearance of the buildings from which these caves were copied may be obtained from the Raths (as they are called) of Mahavellipore (described further on, p. 328). These are monuments of a later date, and belonging to a different religion, but they correspond so nearly in all their parts with the temples and monasteries now under consideration, that we cannot doubt their being, in most respects, close copies of them. Curiously enough, the best illustrations of some of them are to be found among the unpublished sculptures of the Bharhut Tope.

[134] The only buildings in India I know of that gave the least hint of the external forms or construction of these halls are the huts of the Todas on the Nilgiri Hills. In a work recently published by the late Mr. Breeks, of the Madras Civil Service, he gives two photographs of these dwellings, plates 8 and 9. Their roofs have precisely the same elliptical forms as the chaitya with the ridge, giving the ogee form externally, and altogether, whether by accident or design, they are miniature chaitya halls. Externally they are covered with short thatch, neatly laid on. Such forms may have existed in India two thousand years ago, and may have given rise to the peculiarities of the chaitya halls, but it is, of course, impossible to prove it.

[135] ‘Illustrations of the Rock-cut Temples of India,’ 1 vol., text 8vo., with folio plates. Weale, London, 1845.

[136] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iii. pt. ii. p. 36, et seqq., and vol. iv. p. 340, et seqq.

[137] Cunningham, ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. i. p. 45.

[138] At Kondooty, near Bombay, there is a chaitya cave of much more modern date, which possesses a circular chamber like this. In the older examples it is probable a relic or some sacred symbol occupied the cell; in the later it may have been an image of Buddha. No plans or details of the Kondooty temple have, so far as I know, been published. I speak from information derived from MS. drawings.

[139] General Cunningham (‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. i. p. 45) and others are in the habit of calling this an Egyptian form. This it certainly is not, as no Egyptian doorway had sloping jambs. Nor can it properly be called Pelasgic. The Pelasgi did use that form, but derived it from stone constructions. The Indians only obtained it from wood.

[140] A very detailed account of all these caves will be found in Gen. Cunningham’s ‘Archæological Report’ for 1861-62.

[141] From a photograph and an unpublished paper by Professor Bhandarkur, read before the Oriental Congress.

[142] From Bhandarkur’s paper, ubi supra.

[143] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. v. p. 55.

[144] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. v. pp. 152-3.

[145] A few years ago it was reported that this screen was in danger of falling outwards, and I wrote repeatedly to India begging that something might be done to preserve it; but I have never been able to learn if this has been attended to. Only a small portion of the original ribbing of the Bhaja cave now remains. That of the Bedsa cave has been destroyed within the last ten or twelve years (‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. ix. p. 223); and it would be a thousand pities if this, which is the only original screen in India, were allowed to perish when a very small outlay would save it. Like the Iron pillar at Delhi which never rusts, teak wood that does not decay though exposed to the atmosphere for 2000 years, is a phenomenon worth the attention not only of antiquaries, but of natural philosophers.

[146] For further particulars regarding the Ajunta caves, the reader is referred to a paper I wrote in the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ 1842, and republished afterwards with a folio volume of plates to illustrate it.

[147] These inscriptions are translated in Bhau Dajis’ paper on the Ajunta inscriptions, ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. viii. p. 63, as if found in cave 2. On the accompanying plate they are described as one on cave 10, the other on cave 12.

[148] Kittoe in ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ March, 1847, plate 6.

[149] Sir Charles Mallet, in the second volume of the ‘Bombay Literary Transactions,’ quotes a tradition that the Ellora caves were excavated by a Raja Eelu, 1000 years before his day. This might be true if applied to the Brahmanical Kailas, but hardly to any Buddhist cave in the series.

[150] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. v. p. 14.

[151] Loc. cit. p. 25.

[152] Introduction to ‘Mahawanso,’ p. 30.

[153] See Appendix.

[154] A tolerably correct representation of these sculptures is engraved in Langle’s ‘Hindostan,’ vol. ii. p. 81, after Niebuhr. The curious part of the thing is, that the Buddhist figures of the Karli façade are not copied here also, from which I would infer, as well as from their own intrinsic evidence, that they were more modern than even this cave.

[155] For further particulars regarding this cave, the reader is referred to my work on the ‘Rock-cut Temples of India,’ p. 36, plates 11 and 12.

[156] The plates in Gen. Cunningham’s ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. ii. pl. 70 and 74, are on too small a scale to be of much use. I have not myself visited these caves.

[157] The particulars of the architecture of these caves are taken from Gen. Cunningham’s report above alluded to. I entirely agree with him as to their age, and am surprised Dr. Impey could be so mistaken regarding them. ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. v. p. 336, et seqq.

[158] Throughout this work the term “Vihara” is applied only to monasteries, the abodes of monks or hermits. It was not, however, used in that restricted sense only, in former times, though it has been so by all modern writers. Hiouen Thsang, for instance, calls the Great Tower at Buddh Gaya a vihara, and describes similar towers at Nalanda, 200 and 300 feet high, as viharas. The ‘Mahawanso’ also applies the term indiscriminately to temples of a certain class, and to residences. My impression is that all buildings designed in storeys were called viharas, whether used for the abode of priests or to enshrine relics or images. The name was used to distinguish them from stupas or towers, which were always relic shrines, or erected as memorials of places or events, and never were residences or simulated to be such, or contained images, till the last gasp of the style, as at Kholvi. At present this is only a theory; it may, before long, become a certainty. Strictly speaking, the residences ought probably to be called Sangharamas, but, to avoid multiplication of terms, vihara is used in this work as the synonym of monastery, which is the sense in which it is usually understood by modern authors.

[159] Vol. iv., Woodcuts Nos. 89, 90.

[160] Beal’s ‘Fa Hian,’ p. 139, ‘Hiouen Thsang,’ vol. iii. p. 102.

[161] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. vi. (N.S.) p. 257, et seqq.

[162] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. i. p. 28, plate 16.

[163] ‘Hiouen Thsang,’ vol. i. p. 151.

[164] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. i. pp. 28-36, plate 16.

[165] Now in private hands in Birmingham.

[166] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. xxxiii. p. 360, et seqq.

[167] Ibid., vol. xxiii. p. 469, et seqq.

[168] For this and the other Sarnath remains see Cunningham’s ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. i. p. 114, et seqq., plates 32-34.

[169] These dimensions are from plate 42, ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ for 1847, by the late Capt. Kittoe.

[170] This inscription first attracted the attention of Stirling, and a plate representing it very imperfectly is given in the 15th volume of the ‘Asiatic Researches.’ It was afterwards copied by Kittoe, and a translation, as far as its imperfection admitted, made by Prinsep, with the assistance of his pundits, and published. ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vi. p. 1080, et seqq.

[171] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vi. p. 1073, plate 54.

[172] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vi. p. 1075.

[173] There is a very faithful drawing of this bas-relief by Kittoe in the ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vii. plate 44. But casts of all these sculptures were taken some three years ago by Mr. Locke, of the School of Design, Calcutta, and photographs of these casts, with others of the caves, are now before me. Reduced copies of some of these were published on plate 100, ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ 2nd edition, 1873.

[174] That there were Yavanas in Orissa about this time is abundantly evident, from the native authorities quoted by Stirling—‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xv. p. 258, et seqq. These represent them as coming from Kashmir, and Babul Des, or Persia, and one account names the invader as Hangsha Deo, which looks very like Hushka, or Huvishka (the brother of Kanishka), whose inscriptions are found at Muttra.—Cunningham, ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. ii. p. 32, et seqq.

[175] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vii. plate 42. ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ plate 100.

[176] ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ plate 100, p. 105.

[177] There may have been a structural dagoba attached to the series, which may have disappeared.

[178] Wilson, ‘Ariana Antiqua,’ plate 10.

[179] These inscriptions were first published by Lieut. Brett, with translations by Dr. Stevenson, in the fifth volume of the ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ p. 39, et seqq., plates 1 to 16. They were afterwards revised by Messrs. E. W. and A. A. West in the eighth volume of the same journal, p. 37, et seqq., and translated by Professor Bhandarkar in a paper not yet published, but to which I have had access. I have also been assisted by manuscript plans and notes by Mr. Burgess; and, though I have not seen the caves myself, I fancy that I can realise all their main features without difficulty.

[180] Professor Bhandarkar, in his paper on these inscriptions, passes over the inscriptions in the interior of the chaitya, without alluding to them in any way. Is it that there is any mistake about them? and that the cave is a century more modern than they would lead us to suppose? The answer is probably to be obtained on the spot, and there only.

[181] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. viii. p. 40.

[182] Ante, p. 129. See also plate 11 of my folio work on the ‘Rock-cut Temples,’ where the pillars of the two caves are contrasted as here.

[183] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. ix. p. 16.

[184] ‘Journal Bombay Branch Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. viii. p. 42.

[185] Ib., vol. v. p. 49.

[186] ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ woodcut 12, p. 92.

[187] Ibid., plates 81, 91, 97, et passim.

[188] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. v. p. 55.

[189] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. viii. p. 56.

[190] The caves, it may be explained, were numbered consecutively, like houses in a street, beginning at the north end, the first cave there being No. 1, the last accessible cave at the southern end being No. 26.

[191] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. viii. p. 56. See also, ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. v. p. 726.

[192] Curiously enough, on the roof of this cave there are four square compartments representing the same scene, in different manners—a king, or very important personage, drinking out of a cup with male and female attendants. What the story is, is not known, but the persons represented are not Indians, but Persians, and the costumes those of the Sassanian period. Copies of these pictures by Mr. Griffith are now exhibited in the India Museum at Kensington.

[193] ‘Rock cut Temples,’ pl. 8.

[194] Eight large lithographic plates illustrating these caves will be found in my work on the ‘Rock-cut Temples of India,’ 1843. In 1864 I published a small volume containing fifty-eight photographic illustrations of the same series. Reductions of some of the more important frescoes, copied by Major Gill, were fortunately published by Mrs. Speir in her ‘Life in Ancient India,’ in 1856; and since then Mr. Griffith, of the School of Arts at Bombay, has been employed to recover, as far as it can now be done, the frescoes destroyed in the Crystal Palace fire. If he is successful, these curious paintings may still be made available for the history of art in India. It is feared, however, that the means taken by Major Gill to heighten their colour before copying them, and the destructive tendencies of British tourists, have rendered the task to a great extent a hopeless one.

[195] Ante, p. 59.

[196] I possess a large collection of MS. drawings of these caves, made for Daniell by his assistants in 1795-6.

[197] ‘Voyage en Arabie et d’autres pays circonvoisins,’ 1776-80. Most of the plates referring to these caves were reproduced by Langles in his ‘Monuments d’Hindostan,’ vol. ii., plates 77, et seqq.

[198] Schlagintweit, ‘Buddhismus in Thibet,’ plate 3.

[199] Plans of these caves, with descriptions and some architectural details, will be found in Gen. Cunningham’s ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. ii. pp. 270-288, plates 77-84. Those of Dhumnar I have seen myself, but till those of Kholvi are photographed we shall not be able to speak positively regarding them; the General’s drawings are on too small a scale for that purpose.

[200] The Kholvi group is situated more than sixty miles north of Ujjain, that of Dhumnar about twenty-five further north, and deeper into the Central Indian jungles.

[201] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iv. pp. 287-291.

[202] There is a representation of this cave in Dr. Bird’s book, plate 16, but so badly done that it requires being told what is intended in order to find it out.

[203] I have for some time possessed photographs of about one hundred objects obtained in these excavations, principally those in the Lahore Museum; and latterly I have received from Gen. Cunningham twenty large photographic plates, representing 165 separate objects recently obtained in a more methodical manner by himself, principally from Jamalgiri. These plates are, as I understand, to form part of the illustrations of a work he intends publishing on the subject. When it is in the hands of the public there will be some data to reason upon. At present there is scarcely anything to which a reference can be made.

[204] When Gen. Cunningham was selecting specimens in the Lahore Museum, to be photographed for the Vienna Exhibition, he complains that he could only ascertain the “find spot” of five or six out of the whole number—500 or 600. It is therefore to be regretted that, when publishing a list with descriptions of the 165 objects discovered by himself (‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. v. pp. 197-202), he does not mention where they came from, and gives the dimensions of a few only.

[205] The mode in which the excavations have recently been conducted by Government has been to send out a party of sappers in the cold weather to dig, but the officer in charge of the party has been the subaltern who happened to be in command of the company at the time. A new officer is consequently appointed every year, and no one has ever been selected because he had any experience in such matters or any taste for such pursuits. What has been done has been done wonderfully well, considering the circumstances under which it was undertaken; but the result on the whole is, as might be expected, painfully disappointing. Quite recently, however, it is understood that Gen. Cunningham has taken charge of the excavations, and we may consequently hope that in future these defects of arrangement will be remedied.

[206] In the fifth volume of his ‘Archæological Reports’ just received, Gen. Cunningham assumes that both these were stupas of the ordinary character. They may have been so, but both having steps up to them would seem to militate against that assumption. The circular one is only 22 ft., the square one 15 ft. in diameter, and there is consequently no room on either for a procession-path round the dome, if it existed; and, if this is so, of what use could the steps be? Lieut. Crompton, who excavated the Jamalgiri monastery, is clearly of opinion that it was a platform—see page 2 of his report, published in the ‘Lahore Gazette,’ 30th August, 1873. To prevent misunderstanding, I may mention that Gen. Cunningham, in his plate No. 14, by mistake, ascribes the plan to Sergt. Wilcher, instead of to Lieut. Crompton.

[207] ‘Embassy to Thibet,’ p. 317.

[208] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. vii., No. 21, p. 116, et seqq.

[209] These have been removed, and are now in Gen. Cunningham’s possession at Simla, I believe. He has sent me photographs of twelve of them.

[210] ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ plates 24 (fig. 3) and 36 (fig. 1).

[211] The modillion cornice, though placed on the capital in the photograph, belongs in reality to another part of the building.

[212] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. v. pp. 49 and 196.

[213] ‘The Palaces of Nineveh and Persepolis Restored.’ By the Author. Part II. sect. i., et passim.

[214] One curious peculiarity of these Gandhara sculptures is that they generally retain the sloping jamb on each side of their openings. In India and in a structural building this peculiarity would certainly fix their age as anterior to the Christian Era. In Gandhara it is only found in decorative sculpture, and retained apparently from association. It does not, at all events, appear as if any argument could be based on its use as there employed.

[215] Assuming that his age has been correctly ascertained, which I am beginning, however, to doubt exceedingly.

[216] I possess photographs of about 300 objects from the Lahore and other museums, and have had access to about as many actual examples—of an inferior class, however—in collections in this country, but even they barely suffice for the purpose.

[217] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. v., Introduction, p. vi. See also Appendix to the same volume, pp. 193-4.

[218] Texier and Pullan, ‘Byzantine Architecture,’ London, 1864, pls. 22-25 and pl. 44.

[219] De Voguë, ‘Syrie Centrale,’ passim.

[220] By a curious slip of the pen General Cunningham (‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. v. p. 193) places “These Roman examples in the baths of Caracalla in the beginning of the first century of the Christian Era, almost contemporary,” he adds, “with that which I assign to the finest Indo-Corinthian examples just described, namely, the latter half of the first century B.C.” This is so evidently a mere slip that I would not allude to it were it not that much of his argument for the early age of these sculptures is based upon this coincidence.

[221] There is a capital at Siah, in Syria, on which a bust is introduced, which may be as early as the Christian Era, but it is a solitary example not repeated afterwards, so far as I know. See ‘Syrie Centrale,’ by De Voguë, plate 3.

[222] In Beal’s introduction to ‘Fa Hian,’ p. 18, he mentions, on Chinese authority, which is much more reliable than Indian, that a statue of Buddha was brought to China from Kartchou (?) in B.C. 121. On asking Mr. Beal to look carefully into the authorities for this statement, he reports them to be hazy in the extreme, and not to be relied upon.

[223] I believe it is generally admitted that the rédaction of the ‘Mahawanso,’ and other Ceylonese scriptures made in Buddhaghosha’s time, A.D. 408-420, is the oldest authentic Buddhist work we now possess. They, like the ‘Lalita Vistara,’ and other works, are founded on older works of course, but the earlier forms have been lost, and what we have is what the writers of the 5th and subsequent centuries thought they ought to be.

[224] Unfortunately no Indian list of these patriarchs has yet come to light. Those we have are derived from Japanese or Chinese sources, and are all tainted with the falsification which the Chinese made in Buddhist chronology by putting Buddha’s date back to about 1000 B.C., in order that he might have precedence of Confucius in antiquity! for so it is that history is written in the East. For a list of the twenty-eight known patriarchs, see Lassen, ‘Indische Alterthumskunde,’ vol. ii., Beilage ii. p. 1004.

[225] The capitals of these pillars are so ruined that it is difficult to speak very confidently about them. I have drawings of them by Col. Yule and by Mr. W. Simpson, and latterly Gen. Cunningham has published drawings of them, ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. v. pl. 24. None of them are quite satisfactory, but this must arise from the difficulty of the task.

[226] No complete history of the ivories has been published which is sufficient for reference on this subject. Gori’s are too badly engraved for this purpose; but the first twelve plates in Labarte’s ‘Histoire de l’Art’ are perfect as far as they go. So are the plates in Maskell’s ‘Catalogue of the South Kensington Museum,’ and those published by the Arundel Society; but it is to the collection of casts in these two last-named institutions that the reader should refer for fuller information on the subject.

[227] I purchased from his artist, Mr. Nicholl, and possess all the original sketches from which the illustrations of his book were engraved.

[228] When the present governor was appointed hopes ran high that this unsatisfactory state of our knowledge would be cleared away. The stars, however, in their courses have warred against archæology in Ceylon ever since he assumed sway over the island, and the only residuum of his exertions seems to be that a thoroughly competent German scholar, Herr Goldsmidt, is occupied now in copying the inscriptions, which are numerous, in the island. These, however, are just what is least wanted at present. In India, where we have no history and no dates, inscriptions are invaluable, and are, in fact, our only sources of correct information. In Ceylon, however, they are, for archæological purposes, comparatively unimportant. What is there wanted are plans and architectural details, and these, accompanied by general descriptions and dimensions, would, with the photographs we possess, supply all we now want. Any qualified person accustomed to such work could supply nearly all that is wanted in twelve months, for the two principal cities at least; but I despair of seeing it done in my day.

[229] Beal’s translation, p. 157.

[230] The artist who made the drawings for Sir E. Tennent’s book, not knowing what a serpent-hood was, has in almost all instances so drawn it as to be unrecognisable. The photographs, however, make it quite clear that all had serpent-hoods.

[231] The cubit of Ceylon is nearly 2 ft. 3 in.

[232] In the photographs it is called an altar, which it certainly was not.

[233] ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ pl. 19. In some respects it resembles the Woodcuts Nos. 34 and 35.

[234] Since the drawing was made from which this cut is taken, it has been thoroughly repaired and made as unlike what it was as can well be conceived.

[235] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal’ for March, 1847, p. 218.

[236] ‘Transactions of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iii. p. 474, and ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. xiii. p. 168.

[237] I am afraid this is no longer true. From what I learn, I fear it has been repaired.

[238] ‘Mahawanso,’ Turnour’s translation, p. 163.

[239] Loc. cit., p. 235.

[240] At Amravati the Zoophorus (Woodcut No. 36) consisted of the same animals, I believe, but it is not complete, no fragment of the horse having been brought home, and generally, it seems that this limited menagerie is to be found in all Buddhist works.

[241] Any architect of ordinary ability could in a week easily make the plans and drawings requisite to give us all the information required respecting these halls in Anuradhapura. I am not sure that Capt. Hogg has not already done all that is wanted, but he was sent off so suddenly to St. Helena that no time was allowed him to communicate his information to others, even if he had it.

[242] Singularly enough, the natives of Behar ascribe the planting of their Bo-tree to Duttagaimuni, the pious king of Ceylon.—See Buchanan Hamilton’s ‘Statistics of Behar,’ p. 76, Montgomery Martin’s edition.

[243] According to Mr. Rhys Davids, the proper name of the city is Pulastipura (‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. vii. (N.S.) p. 156), and its modern name Topawœwa or Topawa. As, however, that here given is the only one by which it is known in English literature, it is retained.

[244] ‘Christianity in Ceylon,’ Murray, 1850; ‘An Account of the Island of Ceylon,’ 2 vols., Longmans, 1859. Since then Mr. Lawton’s and Capt. Hogg’s photographs have added considerably to the precision but not to the extent of our knowledge. Not one plan or dimension, and no description, so far as I know, have reached this country.

[245] Among Capt. Hogg’s photographs are two colossal statues of Buddha, one at Seperawa, described as 41 ft. high, the other at a place called Aukana, 40 ft. high; but where these places are there is nothing to show. They are extremely similar to one another, and, except in dimensions, to that at the Gal Vihara.

[246] They occur also on Asoka’s pillars in the earliest known sculptures in India (Woodcut No. 6). It was the cackling of these sacred geese which is said to have saved the Capitol at Rome from being surprised by the Gauls.

[247] The preceding woodcut, from Sir E. Tennent’s book, is far from doing justice to the building or to Mr. Nicholl’s drawings, which are before me; but among the half dozen photographs I possess of it not one is sufficiently explanatory to convey a correct idea of its peculiarities, and, after all, without plans or dimensions, it is in vain to attempt to convey a correct idea of it to others.

[248] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. iii. p. 31, et seqq., plates 13 and 15. As neither photographs nor even drawings of these figures are yet available, we are still unable to speak of their style of art, or to feel sure of their authenticity; nor has the era from which these dates are to be calculated been fixed with anything like certainty. The evidence, however, as it now stands, is strongly in favour of their being what they are represented to be.

[249] Vol. i. p. 359, Woodcut No. 241.

[250] The antiquities of Java will probably, to some extent at least, supply this deficiency, as will be pointed out in a subsequent chapter.

[251] Vol. i. p. 212, et seqq.

[252] Vol. i. p. 213.

[253] Ibid., p. 334.

[254] Fully illustrated in vol. ii. of the Dilettanti Society’s ‘Antiquities of Ionia.’

[255] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iv. p. 1, et seqq.; ‘Madras Journal,’ vol. xx. p. 78, et seqq.; ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iii. p. 206, et seqq.

[256] ‘Archæological Reports,’ 1874, pp. 41 and 42.

[257] Loc. cit., plate 54.

[258] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. ix. p. 270, vol. xvii. p. 285.

[259] ‘Hiouen Thsang, Vie et Voyages,’ vol. i. p. 253, et seqq.

[260] See Woodcuts Nos. 99, 112, 122, 124, 127, 172, 177 and 178 of vol. i. of this work.

[261] In his work on the ‘Antiquities of Orissa,’ Babu Rajendra Lalâ Mittra suggests at page 31 something of this sort, but if his diagram were all that is to be said in favour of the hypothesis, I would feel inclined to reject it.

[262] No really satisfactory translation of these Asoka edicts has yet been published. The best is that of Professor Wilson, in vol. xii. ‘Journal of Royal Asiatic Society.’ Mr. Burgess has, however, recently re-copied that at Girnar, and General Cunningham those in the north of India. When these are published it may be possible to make a better translation than has yet appeared.

[263] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. viii. p. 120.

[264] Ibid., vol. vii. p. 124.

[265] Lieut. Postans’ ‘Journey to Girnar,’ ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vii. p. 865, et seqq. This, with most of the facts here recorded, is taken either from Mr. Burgess’s descriptions of the photographs in his ‘Visit to Somnath, Girnar, and other places in Kathiawar,’ or Lieut. Postans’ ‘Journey,’ just referred to. Col. Tod’s facts are too much mixed up with poetry to admit of their being quoted.

[266] Mr. Burgess visited this place during the spring of the present year, and has brought away plans and sections, from which it appears these caves are old, but till his materials are published it is impossible to state exactly how old they may be. I am afraid this work will be published long before his Report.

[267] Ram Raj, ‘Architecture of the Hindus,’ p. 49.

[268] Burgess, ‘Visit to Girnar,’ &c., p. 3.

[269] ‘Ferishta,’ translated by General Briggs, vol. i. p. 72. Wilson, however (‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xvii. p. 194), is clearly of opinion that it was a lingam. One slight circumstance mentioned incidentally by Ferishta (p. 74) convinces me as clearly it was Jaina. After describing the destruction of the great idol, he goes on to say, “There were in the temple some thousands of small images, wrought in gold and silver, of various shapes and dimensions.” I know of no religion except that of the Jains—and the very late Buddhists—who indulged in this excessive reduplication of images.

[270] A view of this temple, not very correct but fairly illustrative of the style, forms the title-page to Col. Tod’s ‘Travels in Western India.’

[271] See ‘Illustrations of Indian Architecture,’ by the Author, p. 30, from which work the plan and view are taken.

[272] See ante, p. 221.

[273] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. ii. p. 357.

[274] Ibid., plate 90.

[275] The only person who has described these temples in any detail is Gen. Cunningham, ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. ii. p. 412, et seqq., from which consequently all that is here said is taken. I am also indebted to the General for a very complete set of photographs of these temples, which enables me to speak of their appearance with confidence.

[276] General Cunningham hesitates to adopt its extreme simplicity and rudeness as a test of its age, because it is built of granite, the other in the exquisite stone of the neighbourhood. Its plan, however, and the forms of its sikras, induce me to believe it to be exceptionally old.

[277] For plans of similar Jaina temples, see Mr. Burgess’s Report on Belgâm and Kuladgi, pls. 2, 10 and 45. These, however, are more modern than this one.

[278] ‘Picturesque Illustrations of Indian Architecture,’ by the Author, plate 5.

[279] Impey, ‘Views in Delhi, Agra, and Rajpootana,’ London, 1865, frontispiece and plate 60.

[280] Sri Allat, to whom the erection of this tower is ascribed, is the 12th king, mentioned in Tod’s Aitpore inscriptions (‘Rajastan,’ vol. i. p. 802).

[281] ‘Picturesque Illustrations of Ancient Architecture in Hindostan,’ by the Author, pl. 8, p. 38.

[282] The dome that now crowns this tower was substituted for the old dome since I sketched it in 1839.

[283] Burgess, ‘Sutrunjya,’ p. 20. A plan of this temple is given by him and several photographs.

[284] Burgess, loc. cit., p. 25.

[285] Tod’s ‘Travels in Western India,’ pp. 280, 281.

[286] L. Rousselet, in ‘L’Inde des Rajahs,’ devotes three plates, pp. 396-8, to these temples. I possess several photographs of them.

[287] ‘Picturesque Illustrations of Indian Architecture,’ pl. 17.

[288] Burgess, ‘Report on Belgâm and Kuladji Districts,’ 1875, p. 25, plates 36 and 37.

[289] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iv. p. 7; ‘Madras Journal,’ vol. xx. p. 78, et seqq.

[290] Tod’s ‘Rajastan,’ vol. i. p. 778, and plate facing it.

[291] Unfortunately the census of 1872 did not extend to the Mysore, where the principal Jaina establishments are situated, nor to any of the native states of southern India. The figures thus given do not consequently at all represent the facts of the case.

[292] ‘Vie et Voyages,’ vol. i. p. 201, et seqq., vol. iii. p. 146, et seqq.

[293] Sir Walter Elliot and others have told me there are Buddhist remains in the south, and I know the general opinion is that this is so. I have never myself seen any, nor been able to obtain photographs or detailed information regarding them. When they are brought forward these assertions may be modified. They, however, express in the meanwhile our present knowledge of the subject.

[294] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. ix. p. 285.

[295] These three were engraved in ‘Moor’s Pantheon,’ plates 73 and 74, in 1810. I have photographs of them, but not of any others, nor have I been able to hear of any but these three.

[296] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. ix. p. 285; ‘Indian Antiquary,’ vol. ii. p. 353.

[297] Moor’s ‘Pantheon,’ plate 73.

[298] Burgess, ‘Archæological Reports,’ 1875, p. xxxvii., plate 25.

[299] The artist who drew the lithographs for the ‘Indian Antiquary,’ vol. ii. plate on p. 353, not knowing that serpents were intended, has supplied their place with an ornamentation of his own design.

[300] Among the photographs of the ‘Architecture of Dharwar and Mysore,’ plates 74 and 75, there labelled Hirpouhully. When writing the descriptions of these plates, I was struck with, and pointed out, the curiously exceptional nature of the style of that temple, and its affinities with the style of Nepal; but I had no idea then that it was below, and not above, the Ghâts, and far from being exceptional in the country where it was situated. In fact, one of the great difficulties in writing a book like the present is to avoid making mistakes of this sort. Photographers are frequently so careless in naming the views they are making, and mounters frequently more so, in transferring the right names to the mounts, that in very many instances photographs come to me with names that have no connexion with the subjects; and it is only by careful comparison, aided with extraneous knowledge, that grave errors can be avoided.

[301] ‘Travels in the Himalayan Provinces and in Ladakh and Kashmir,’ London, Murray, 1841.

[302] ‘Travels in Kashmir, Ladak,’ &c., two vols. 8vo., London, Colburn, 1842.

[303] ‘Travels in Kashmir and the Punjab.’ Translated by Major Jervis, London, 1845.

[304] ‘Illustrations of the Ancient Buildings in Kashmir,’ &c., prepared, under the authority of the Secretary of State for India in Council, by Lieut. H. H. Cole, R.E., quarto, Allen and Co., London, 1869.

[305] I cannot make out the span of this arch. According to the rods laid across the photograph, it appears to be 15 feet; according to the scale on the plan, only half that amount.

[306] Lieut. Cole’s plates, 1-68 to 4-68.

[307] See drawing of mosque by Vigne, vol. i. p. 269; and also ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ 1848, p. 253, containing General A. Cunningham’s paper on the subject, from which this woodcut is taken.

[308] On the Toran attached to the rail at Bharhut are elevations of chaitya halls, shown in section, which represent this trefoil form with great exactness.

[309] Josephus, ‘Bell. Jud.,’ v. v. 4, Middoth, iv. 6. I have written a work I hope one day to publish, ‘On the temples of the Jews,’ in which all these dimensions will be drawn to scale.

[310] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ Sept. 1848, p. 267.

[311] Cunningham in the ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ Sept. 1848, p. 269.

[312] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ Sept. 1848, p. 273.

[313] Cunningham, loc. cit., p. 263; Vigne, ‘Travels in Kashmir,’ vol. i. p. 384.

[314] It is not a little singular, however, that the only temple I know of in India that resembles this one, either in plan or arrangement, is the smaller temple of Conjeveram in the Chola country, near Madras; and it is curious that both the ‘Raja Tarangini,’ the Kashmiri history, and that of the Chola country, mention that Ranaditya of Kashmir married a daughter of the Chola king, and assisted in forming an aqueduct from the Cauvery—showing at least an intimacy which may have arisen from that affinity of race and religion, which, overleaping the intruded Aryans, united the two extremities of India in one common bond. True, the style of the two temples is different; but when I saw the one I did not know of the existence of the other, and did not, as I now should, examine the details with that care which alone would enable any one to pronounce definitely regarding their affinities.

[315] Troyer’s ‘Translation,’ lib. iii., v. 462.

[316] Troyer’s ‘Translation,’ lib. iv., v. 126-371.

[317] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xv. p. 49.

[318] ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ p. 47.

[319] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xv. p. 61. Troyer’s ‘Translation,’ lib. v., c. 128.

[320] Plans of these temples with details are given by Cunningham, plates 17 and 18, and by Lieut. Cole with photographs, plates 20 to 27, and 2 to 5 for details. Mr. Cowie also adds considerably to our information on the subject. The dimensions quoted in the text are from Lieut. Cole, and are in excess of those given by General Cunningham.

[321] Lieut. Cole, ‘Illustrations of Ancient Buildings in Kashmir,’ p. 23, plates 37 and 38.

[322] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ 1866, p. 101, et seqq.

[323] ‘Illustrations of Ancient Buildings in Kashmir,’ p. 11, plates 6 to 11.

[324] Cunningham, ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ Sept. 1848, p. 256.

[325] ‘Raja Tarangini,’ vol. i. verse 170.

[326] ‘Vie et Voyages,’ vol. i. p. 96.

[327] Nepal is fortunate in having possessed in Mr. Brian H. Hodgson one of the most acute observers that ever graced the Bengal Civil Service. At the time, however, when he was Resident in the valley, none of the questions mooted in this work can be said to have been started; and he was mainly engrossed in exploring and communicating to others the unsuspected wealth of Buddhist learning which he found in Nepal, and the services he rendered to this cause are incalculably great. Nor did he neglect the architecture. I have before me a short manuscript essay on the subject, only four sheets foolscap, with about one hundred illustrations, which, if fully worked out, would be nearly all that is required. Unfortunately there are neither dates nor dimensions, and the essay is so short, and the drawings, made by natives, so incomplete, that it does not supply what is wanted; but, if worked out on the spot and supplemented by photographs, it might be all that is required.

[328] A curious mistake occurs in Buchanan Hamilton’s ‘Account of the Kingdom of Nepal.’ At page 57 he says: “Gautama, according to the best authorities, lived in the sixth century B.C., and Sakya in the first century A.D. The doctrines of Sakya Singha differ most essentially from those of Gautama.” In the writings of any other man this would be put down as a stupid mistake, but he was so careful an observer that it is evident that his informers confounded the founder of the Saka era—whether he was Kanishka or not—with the founder of the religion, though they seem to be perfectly aware of the novelty of the doctrines introduced by Nagárjuna and the fourth convocation. He adds, page 190, that Buddhism was introduced into Nepal A.D. 33, which is probably, however, fifty years too early—if, at least, it was consequent on the fourth convocation.

[329] Buchanan Hamilton, ‘Account of the Kingdom of Nepal,’ p. 12.

[330] Ibid., p. 49.

[331] Buchanan Hamilton, ‘Account of the Kingdom of Nepal,’ p. 190.

[332] Ibid., p. 22.

[333] Ibid., pp. 35 and 211.

[334] A view of this temple from the frontispiece of Buchanan Hamilton’s volume.

[335] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. v. (N.S.) p. 18.

[336] ‘Nepaul,’ p. 187.

[337] Buchanan Hamilton, ‘Account of the Kingdom of Nepal,’ pp. 29, 42, 51, &c.

[338] The following particulars are taken from a paper by Major Austen in the ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. xliii. part i., 1874.

[339] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. xxiv. p. 1. et seqq.

[340] Ibid., vol. xx. p. 291, et seqq.

[341] Capt. Turner, it is true, who was sent to Teeshoo Lomboo by Warren Hastings, has published with his interesting narrative a number of very faithful views of what he saw, but they are not selected from that class of monuments which is the subject of our present inquiry.

[342] ‘Voyage dans le Thibet,’ vol. ii. p. 289. The monastery referred to is that of Séra, in the neighbourhood of Lassa, the capital.

[343] It is found currently employed in the decorative sculpture of the Gandhara monasteries, but never as a constructive feature.

[344] Cunningham, ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. v. p. 178, et seqq., from which the following particulars are abstracted.

[345] I hope no one will mistake the elevation, pl. 44, vol. v. of Cunningham’s ‘Archæological Reports’ for a representation of this temple. It does not in the least resemble it.

[346] Cunningham, ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. v. p. 183.

[347] ‘Comparative Grammar of the Dravidian Languages,’ London, second edition, 1875, p. 42.

[348] ‘Grammar,’ p. 44.

[349] The best account of the Pandyan kingdom—the Regio Pandionis of the classical authors—is Wilson’s historical sketch in the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iii. p. 199, et seqq. 1736.

[350] Besides the account of this state given by Professor Wilson, in vol. iii. of the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ there are many scattered notices found in Taylor’s ‘Analysis of the Mackenzie MSS.,’ and elsewhere.

[351] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xv. p. 40.

[352] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. viii. p. 5.

[353] Ibid.

[354] Ibid., vol. iv. p. 10.

[355] The particulars are abstracted from Sir Walter Elliot’s paper in the fourth, and Mr. Dowson’s paper on the Cheras in the eighth, volume of the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society.’

[356] The documents collected by Colonel Mackenzie are full of the disputes which ended in the persecution, and these extended apparently from the 5th to the 7th century.

[357] See Dr. Babington, Plate 4, vol. ii. of ‘Transactions of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ for the sculpture at Maha Balipuram.

[358] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. ix. p. 270, and vol. xvii. p. 285.

[359] Burgess, ‘Report on Belgam and Kaladgi,’ 1875, plates 39, 40.

[360] Most of these were copied by Dr. Babington, and published with the papers above referred to, but others are given in the volume on the Mackenzie collection in the India Office.

[361] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vii. plate 13.

[362] Sir Walter Elliot in Lieut. Carr’s compilation, p. 127.

[363] Ibid.

[364] Among the recently discovered ruins at Bharhut is a bas-relief representing a building so exactly like the long rath here, that there can be no doubt that such buildings were used in the north of India two centuries at least before Christ, but to what purpose they were applied is not so clear. The one at Bharhut seems to have contained the thrones or altars of the four last Buddhas.

[365] Among the sculptures of the Gandhara monasteries are several representing façades of buildings. They may be cells or chaitya halls, but, at all events, they are almost exact reproductions of the façade of this rath. Being used as frameworks for sculpture, the northern examples are, of course, conventionalised; but it is impossible to mistake the identity of intention. They may probably be of about the same age.

[366] Burgess, ‘Report on Belgam,’ &c., p. 24.

[367] ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ p. 73.

[368] If it were possible to rouse the Madras Government to take any interest in such matters, it might be hoped they would replace the head of the great Naga on his body before it is destroyed by being made a cockshy for idle Britishers.

[369] In Daniell’s plates, No. 16, the upper part of this is shown. Being cut in the rock no addition or alteration could afterwards have been intended.

[370] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. ix. p. 314, et seqq.

[371] ‘Report on Belgam and Kaladji,’ 1874, p. 31, et seqq.

[372] There are four photographs of this temple in the ‘Architectural Antiquities of Dharwar and Mysore,’ plates 54-57. One of these is repeated in Mr. Burgess’s book, plate 38.

[373] Several photographs of it will be found in Capt. Lyon’s collection.

[374] Capt. Lyon was employed by Government for this purpose, and made 276 photographs of these temples. Fourteen sets were furnished to Government, but, owing to difficulties which occurred in bringing them out, they can hardly be said to be published—in this country at least.

[375] As the plan is only an eye-sketch, and the dimensions obtained by pacing, it must not be too much relied on. It is sufficient to explain the text, and that is all that is at present required.

[376] Inscription on gateway.

[377] The dimensions of this image are 16 ft. from muzzle to rump, by above 7 ft. across, 12 ft. 2 in. to top of head, 10 ft. 4 in. to top of hump, and 7 ft. 5 in. to top of back. It is composed of a single block of stone, I believe granite, but it has been so frequently and so thoroughly coated with oil, which is daily applied to it, that it looks like bronze. I tried to remove a portion of this epidermis in order to ascertain what was beneath, but was not successful. No other kind of stone, however, is used in any other part of the temple.

[378] Though so very important in Dravidian history, we have not even now a correct list of the Chola kings from the year 1000 downwards. There certainly is not one among the Mackenzie MSS. The late Mr. Ellis, it is said, had one, but he determined not to publish anything before he was forty years of age, and before that time he swallowed a bottleful of laudanum by mistake, and was found dead in his bed one morning. His papers served his successor’s cook to light fires for some years afterwards.

[379] Except this dimension, which is from a survey, and those of the gopuras, the dimensions above quoted must be taken cum grano. They were obtained only by pacing and eye-sketching.

[380] A drawing of it was published in my ‘Picturesque Illustrations of Indian Architecture.’ It has since been frequently photographed.

[381] ‘Picturesque Illustrations of Ancient Architecture in Hindustan,’ p. 60.

[382] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. viii. p. 7.

[383] ‘Madras Journal,’ No. 20, p. 15.

[384] Its dimensions, as nearly as can be ascertained from my paces, and Admiral Paris’ plans, are 340 ft. by 180 ft.

[385] The plan of this temple (Woodcut No. 200) is taken from one in the ‘Journal of the Geographical Society of Bombay,’ vol. vii., and may be depended upon in so far as dimensions and general arrangements are concerned. The officers who made it were surveyors, but, unfortunately, not architects, and photographs since made reveal certain discrepancies of detail which prove it to require revision by some one on the spot.

[386] There is a view of it in the Atlas of plates that accompanies Lord Valentia’s travels; not very correct, but conveying a fair idea of its proportions.

[387] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iii. p. 202.

[388] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iii. p. 230, et seqq.

[389] Fortunately this choultrie is also one of the best known of Indian buildings. It was drawn by Daniell in the end of the last century, and his drawings have been repeated by Langles and others. It was described by Mr. Blackadder in the ‘Archæologia,’ vol. x. p. 457; and by Wilson, ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iii. p. 232. Volumes of native drawings exist in some collections containing representations of every pillar. A model in bronze of a porch exists at South Kensington Museum, and it has been abundantly photographed.

[390] In the description of Tripe’s photograph this dimension is given as 117 ft.

[391] Most of these particulars, with those that follow regarding the temples, are taken from Capt. Lyon’s description of his photographs of the places. He devotes twenty-six photos. to this temple alone.

[392] The view in this temple in my ‘Picturesque Illustrations of Indian Architecture,’ No. 21, is taken from the corner of this tank.

[393] There is a native plan of this temple in the India Museum, which makes it very much more extensive than my inspection of the part I was allowed access to would have led me to suppose. I do not know, however, how far the plan can be depended upon.

[394] It is supposed, erroneously, I believe (‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ (N.S.) vol. vi. p. 265), to be the Kanchipuram visited by Hiouen Thsang in 640. Nagapatam was more probably the place he indicated.

[395] I was too unwell when I visited Conjeveram to make so careful a survey of its temples as I would have wished to have done.

[396] I have never been able to ascertain even approximately its dimensions. Hundreds visit it, many have photographed, some written descriptions, but to measure dimensions and make even a sketch plan seems beyond the educational capacity of our countrymen.

[397] When I was in Madras, and indeed up to the present year, the temple on the hill of Tripetty or Tirupetty was reputed to be the richest, the most magnificent, as it was certainly the most sacred of all those in the Presidency. So sacred, indeed, was it, that no unbelieving foreigner had ever been allowed to climb the holy hill (2500 ft. high) or profane its sacred precincts. In 1870, a party of police forced their way in, in pursuit of a murderer who had taken refuge there, and a Mr. Gribble, who accompanied them, published this year (1875) an account of what they saw in the ‘Calcutta Review.’ As he exclaims, “Another of the illusions of my youth destroyed.” The temple is neither remarkable for its size nor its magnificence. In these respects it is inferior to Conjeveram, Seringham, and many others; and whatever may be done with its immense revenues, they certainly are not applied to its adornment. It is a fair specimen of a Dravidian temple of the second class, but in a sad state of dilapidation and disrepair.

[398] What I know on this subject I have already said in my work on ‘Rude Stone Monuments,’ p. 455, et seqq.

[399] Some money was, I believe, expended during Lord Napier’s administration on the repairs of this court and its appurtenances, but it was quite beyond the purview of an Anglo-Saxon to make a plan of the place. It is, consequently, very difficult to describe it.

[400] Description attached to Tripe’s Photographs.

[401] Vol. i. (N.S.) p. 247, et seqq.

[402] Professor Eggeling tells me he has great reason for suspecting the date 411 for Palakesi I. (‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iv. p. 8) to be a forgery. There is something certainly wrong about it, but how the error arose is not yet clear. It seems at least a century too early. See the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iv. p. 12; ibid., vol. iv. (N.S.) p. 93.

[403] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iv. p. 10, et seqq.

[404] Prinsep’s ‘Useful Tables,’ re-edited by Thomas, pp. 267-268.

[405] If all the quadrants of this portico were equal the numbers ought to be 300, or 75 in each, but I fancy a considerable portion of two of them was cut off by the site of the temple. As I have nothing but photographs to go by, and they only show the exterior, even this is uncertain, and the dimensions I cannot even guess at. They are very large, however, for a Hindu temple.

[406] These dates are taken from a list of this dynasty among the Mackenzie MSS., quoted by Prinsep, ‘Useful Tables,’ xli., and are confirmed by the architectural evidence and other indications.

[407] I regret that I have been unable to get a plan of this temple or, indeed, of any triple temple. That at Girnar (Woodcut No. 127) belongs to another religion, and is too far distant in locality to assist us here. An imperfect one might be compiled from the photographs, but I have not even an approximate dimension.

[408] In a very few years this building will be entirely destroyed by the trees, which have fastened their roots in the joints of the stones. In a drawing in the Mackenzie collection in the India Office, made in the early part of this century, the building is shown entire. Twenty years ago it was as shown at p. 398. A subsequent photograph shows it almost hidden; a few years more, if some steps are not taken to save it, it will have perished entirely. A very small sum would save it; and, as the country is in our charge, it is hoped that the expenditure will not be grudged.

[409] Plates 1 and 32-40. Published by Murray, 1864.

[410] In 1848 Gen. Cunningham applied the term Aryan to the architecture of Kashmir, apparently on the strength of a pun (‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ September, 1848, p. 242). This, however, was limiting a term that belongs to two continents to an insignificant valley, in one of them. It was, besides, wholly uncalled for. The term Kashmiri was amply sufficient, and all that was wanted for so strictly local a style.

[411] ‘Historical Sketch of Tahsil Fyzabad,’ by P. Carnegy, Lucknow, 1870. Gen. Cunningham attempts to identify the various mounds at this place with those described as existing in Saketu by the Buddhist Pilgrims (‘Ancient Geography of India,’ p. 401, et seqq.; ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. i. p. 293, et seqq.) The truth of the matter, however, is, that neither Fa Hian nor Hiouen Thsang were ever near the place. The city they visited, and where the Toothbrush-tree grew, was the present city of Lucknow, which was the capital of the kingdom in Sakya Muni’s time.

[412] ‘Sacred City of the Hindus,’ London, 1868, p. 271, et seqq.; ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. xxxiv. p. 1, et seqq.

[413] Curiously enough they make their appearance on the stage about the same time, and both then complete and perfect in all their details.

[414] ‘Hunter’s Orissa,’ vol. i. p. 233.

[415] I regret very much being obliged to send this chapter to press before the receipt of the second volume of Babu Rajendra Lala Mittra’s ‘Antiquities of Orissa.’ He accompanied a Government expedition to that province in 1868 as archæologist, and being a Brahman and an excellent Sanscrit scholar, he has had opportunities of ascertaining facts such as no one else ever had. Orissa was the first province I visited in India for the purposes of antiquarian research, and like every one else, I was then quite unfamiliar with the forms and affinities of Hindu architecture. Photographs have enabled me to supply to some extent the deficiency of my knowledge at that time; but unless photographs are taken by a scientific man for scientific purposes, they do not supply the place of local experience. I feel confident that, on the spot, I could now ascertain the sequence of the temples with perfect certainty; but whether the Babu has sufficient knowledge for that purpose remains to be seen. His first volume is very learned, and may be very interesting, but it adds little or nothing to what we already knew of the history of Orissan architecture.

I have seen two plates of plans of temples intended for the second volume. They are arranged without reference either to style or dates, so they convey very little information, and the photographs prove them to be so incorrect that no great dependence can be placed upon them. The text, which I have not seen, may remedy all this, and I hope will, but if he had made any great discoveries, such as the error in the date of the Black Pagoda, they most probably would have been hinted at in the first volume, or have leaked out in some of the Babu’s numerous publications during the last seven or eight years.

Mr. Hunter, who was in constant communication with the Babu, adds very little in his work on Orissa to what we learnt long ago from Stirling’s, which up to this hour remains the classical work on the province and its antiquities.

[416] These particulars are taken, of course, from Stirling, ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xv. pp. 263, 264. The whole evidence was embodied in a paper on the Amravati tope, ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iii. (N.S.), p. 149, et seqq.

[417] Hunter’s ‘Orissa,’ vol. i. p. 238.

[418] This dimension is from Babu Rajendra’s ‘Orissan Antiquities,’ vol. i. p. 41, but I don’t like it.

[419] This and the dimensions in plan generally are taken from a table in Babu Rajendra’s work, p. 41. I am afraid they are only round numbers, and certainly incorrect, but they suffice for comparison.

[420] ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ plates 48-98.

[421] Hunter’s ‘Orissa,’ vol. i. p. 237.

[422] It is to be hoped that Babu Rajendra’s book may to some extent remedy this deficiency. In the part, however, now published, he does not promise that this will be the case.

[423] Cunningham’s ‘Reports,’ vol. ii. p. 416.

[424] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xv. p. 327.

[425] Myself included in the number! but, as explained above, I had no knowledge of the style when I visited Orissa, and had no photographs to illustrate the architecture of temples to which I was not then allowed access.

[426] When I visited Orissa in 1837 and sketched this temple, a great part of the tower was still standing. See ‘Picturesque Illustrations of Indian Architecture,’ part iii. It has since fallen entirely, but whether from stress of weather or by aid from the Public Works Department is by no means clear.

[427] ‘Ayeen Akbery,’ Gladwin’s translation, vol. ii. p. 16.

[428] Hunter’s ‘Orissa,’ Appendix vii. p. 187, et seqq.

[429] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vii. p. 557.

[430] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xvi. p. 25.

[431] In his ‘Antiquities of Orissa’ (p. 151), Babu Rajendra sums up exhaustively the argument for and against Vishnu being considered the same as the Sun in the Vedas, and, on the whole, makes out a strong case in favour of the identification. Even, however, if the case were much less strong than it appears to be, it by no means follows that what was only dimly shadowed forth in the Vedas may not have become an accepted fact in the Puranas, and an established dogma in Orissa in the 9th century, when this temple was erected.

[432] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xv. p. 330.

[433] These discrepancies arise from the fact that the beams lie on the floor buried under the ruins of the stone roof they once supported, and it is extremely difficult to get at them so as to obtain correct measurements.

[434] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xv. p. 316.

[435] Loc. cit., p. 265.

[436] Tournour’s abstract of the Dalawanso in the ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vi. p. 856, et seqq.

[437] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ v. 1. xv. p. 320.

[438] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xv. p. 315.

[439] The plan is reduced from one to a scale of 40 feet to 1 in., made by an intelligent native assistant to the Public Works Department, named Radhica Pursâd Mukerji, and is the only plan I ever found done by a native sufficiently correct to be used, except as a diagram, or after serious doctoring.

[440] Hunter, ‘Orissa,’ vol. i. p. 128.

[441] News has just reached this country of a curious accident having happened in this temple. Just after the gods had been removed from their Sinhasan to take their annual excursion to the Gundicha Nûr, some stones of the roof fell in, and would have killed any attendants and smashed the gods had they not fortunately all been absent. Assuming the interior of the Bara Dewul to be as represented (Woodcut No. 124), it is not easy to see how this could have happened. But in the same woodcut the porch or Jagamohan of the Kanaruc pagoda is represented with a flat false roof, which has fallen, and now encumbers the floor of the apartment. That roof, however, was formed of stone laid on iron beams, and looked as if it could only have been shaken down by an earthquake. I have little doubt that a similar false roof was formed someway up the tower over the altar at Puri, but formed probably of stone laid on wooden beams and either decay or the white ants having destroyed the timber, the stones have fallen as narrated.

A similar roof so supported on wooden beams still exists in the structural temple on the shore at Mahavellipore, and, I have no doubt, elsewhere, but it is almost impossible to get access to these cells when the gods are at home, and the places are so dark it is equally impossible to see, except when in ruins, how they were roofed.

[442] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xv. p. 367.

[443] Ibid., p. 335; Hunter’s ‘Orissa,’ vol. i. p. 266.

[444] ‘Ayeen Akbery,’ Gladwin’s translation, vol. ii. p. 13.

[445] These dimensions, except those of Kanaruc, are taken from a table in Babu Rajendra’s ‘Antiquities of Orissa,’ vol. i. p. 41, and are sufficient to give an idea of the relative size of the building. So far as I can make out they are taken from angle to angle of the towers, but as they all have projections on their faces, when cubed, as is done in the table referred to, they are much too small. I may also observe that I know of no instance in which the two dimensions differ. The four faces are always, I believe, alike. The dates are my own; none are given, except for the great temple, in the Babu’s first volume.

[446] The two works on this subject are the ‘Architectural History of Dharwar and Mysore,’ fol., 100 plates, Murray, 1866, and Burgess’s ‘Report on the Belgam and Kuladgi Districts,’ 1874. Considering the time available and the means at his disposal, Mr. Burgess did wonders, but it is no dispraise to say that he has not, nor could any man in his place, exhaust so vast a subject.

[447] For architectural purposes the three places may be considered as one. Aiwulli is five or six miles north of Badami, and Purudkul or Pittadkul as far south. Ten miles covers the whole, which must have been in the 6th or 7th century a place of great importance—possibly Watipipura, the capital of the Chalukyas in the 5th or 6th century. See ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iv. p. 9.

[448] ‘Histoire de Hiouen Thsang,’ p. 255; ‘Vie et Voyages,’ vol. i. p. 280.

[449] ‘Report on the District of Belgam and Kuladgi.’ 1874.

[450] When I originally wrote on the subject I thought I had the 9th and 10th centuries at my disposal. It now appears they must be blotted out as non-existent for any historical or artistic purpose.

[451] This is the date given by Mr. Burgess in his description in ‘The Caves at Elephanta,’ Bombay, 1871, p. 5.

[452] ‘Transactions of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. ii. pl. 4.

[453] Loc. cit., pl. 6.

[454] Burgess, ‘Report on Belgam,’ &c. pl. 31.

[455] Loc. cit., pls. 20, 23, 40.

[456] ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ pl. 76.

[457] Burgess, ‘Report on Belgam and Kuladji,’ pl. 31.

[458] A view of this was published in my ‘Picturesque Illustrations of Indian Architecture,’ pl. 5.

[459] Tod’s ‘Annals of Rajastan,’ vol. ii. p. 734.

[460] ‘Picturesque Illustrations of Ancient Architecture in Hindostan,’ pl. 6, with description. Gen. Cunningham (‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. ii. p. 264) agrees with me as to the date, but inadvertently adds a scale to his plan which makes the building ten times larger than I made it, or than it really is.

[461] Tod (loc. cit.) gives several plates of the details of the porch by a native artist—fairly well drawn, but wanting shadow to render them intelligible.

[462] Tod’s ‘Annals of Rajastan,’ vol. ii. p. 712.

[463] A view of this temple will be found in my ‘Picturesque Illustrations of Indian Architecture,’ pl. 4.

[464] We are indebted to Gen. Cunningham for almost all we know about this place, and it is from his ‘Reports’ and photographs that the following account has been compiled.

[465] Cunningham, ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. ii. p 420.

[466] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. ix. p. 548. The date is given from four different epochs, so that there can be no mistake about it.

[467] A portion of the casts are in the South Kensington Museum. Transcripts from the drawings were published in the ‘Indian Antiquary,’ vol. iii. p. 316.

[468] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. ix. p. 219.

[469] Ibid., vol. ix. p. 221.

[470] Both these temples are illustrated to a considerable extent in Lieut. H. H. Cole’s illustrations of buildings near Muttra and Agra, published by the India Office, 1873, to which the reader is referred for further information.

[471] Buchanan Hamilton, ‘Eastern India,’ edited by Montgomery Martin, 1837, vol. ii. p. 628.

[472] Frontispiece to Buchanan Hamilton’s ‘Eastern India.’

[473] A view of this temple is given in my ‘Picturesque Illustrations of Ancient Architecture in Hindostan,’ pl. 14.

[474] Ante, vol. i., Woodcut No. 241.

[475] A view of it is given in Tod’s ‘Rajastan,’ vol. i. p. 267. Some parts have been misunderstood by the engraver, but on the whole it represents the building fairly.

[476] A view of one of these is given in my ‘Illustrations of Ancient Architecture in India,’ plate 15. Other illustrations will be found in ‘L’Inde des Rajahs,’ p. 187, et seqq.

[477] Erskine’s ‘Memoirs of Baber,’ p. 384.

[478] These particulars are taken from Cunningham’s ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. ii. p. 346, et seqq., plates 87 and 88.

[479] How far anything of all this now exists is by no means clear. We occupied the fort during the mutiny, and have retained it ever since. The first thing done was to occupy the Barradurri as a mess-room: to fit up portions of the palace for military occupation; then to build a range of barracks, and clear away a lot of antiquarian rubbish to make a parade ground. What all this means is only too easily understood. M. Rousselet—no unfriendly critic—observes:—“Les Anglais sont très-activement occupés à simplifier la besogne de l’archéologue, et à faire disparaître ce précieux document de l’histoire de l’Inde; déjà toutes les constructions à la gauche de la porte de l’est sont livrées à la pioche et le même sort est réservé au reste” (‘L’Inde des Rajahs,’ p. 362). And, again: “Mais, hélas! l’Ourwahaï lui aussi a vécu. Quand j’y revins en Décembre, 1867, les arbres étaient coupés, les statues volaient en éclats, sous les pics des travailleurs, et le ravin se remplissait des talus d’une nouvelle route construite par les Anglais—talus dans lesquels dorment les palais des Chandelas et des Tomars, les idoles des Bouddhistes et des Jainas.”—Loc. cit. p. 366.

[480] A plan of it is given in Lieut. Cole’s ‘Report on the Buildings near Agra’—correct as far as it goes, but not complete.

[481] Egypt showed little taste for architectural display till she fell under the sway of the Memlook Sultans, and Saracenic architecture in Persia practically commences with the Seljukians.

[482] ‘Architecture of Beejapore. Photographed from Drawings by Capt. Hart and A. Cumming, C.E., and on the spot by Col. Biggs and Major Loch, with text by Col. Meadows Taylor and J. Fergusson.’ Folio, Murray, 1866.

[483] ‘Architecture of Ahmedabad. 120 Photographs by Col. Biggs, with Text by T. C. Hope, B.C.S., and Jas. Fergusson.’ Small folio, Murray, 1866.

[484] Brigg’s translation, vol. i. p. 61.

[485] It is very much to be regretted that not a single officer accompanied our armies, when they passed and repassed through Ghazni, able or willing to appreciate the interest of these ruins; and it is to be hoped, if an opportunity should again occur, that their importance to the history of art in the East will not be overlooked.

[486] The sketch of the tomb published by Mr. Vigne in his ‘Travels in Afghanistan,’ gives too confined a portion of it to enable us to judge either of its form or detail. The gate in front is probably modern, and the foiled arches in the background appear to be the only parts that belong to the 11th century.

[487] The tradition that these gates were of sandal-wood, and brought from Somnath, is entirely disproved by the fact of their being of the local pine-wood, as well as by the style of decoration, which has no resemblance to Hindu work.

[488] An excellent representation of the gates will be found in the second edition of ‘Marco Polo’s Travels,’ by Col. Yule, vol. ii. p. 390.

[489] See translation of the inscription on these minars, ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ No. 134, for 1843.

[490] Two are represented by Dubois de Montpéreux, ‘Voyage autour du Caucase.’

[491] Vide ante, vol. ii. p. 444, et seqq.

[492] Vide ante, vol. i. p. 387, et seqq.

[493] I do not know why Gen. Cunningham should go out of his way to prove that the Ajmir mosque is larger than that at Delhi (‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. ii. p. 260). His remarks apply only to the inner court at Delhi, which may have been the whole mosque as originally designed; but before the death of Altumsh, who was the real builder of both, the screen of arches at Delhi had been extended to 380 ft. as compared with the 200 ft. at Ajmir, and the courtyards of the two mosques are nearly in the same proportion, their whole superficial area being 72,000 ft. at Ajmir, as compared with 152,000 ft. at Delhi.

[494] Gen. Cunningham found an inscription on the wall recording that twenty-seven temples of the Hindus had been pulled down to provide materials for this mosque (‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. i. p. 176). This, however, proves little, unless we know what the temples were like which were destroyed for this purpose. Twenty-seven temples like those at Khajurâho, excepting the Ganthai, would not provide pillars for one half the inner court. One temple like that at Sadri would supply a sufficiency for the whole mosque, and though the latter is more modern, we have no reason for supposing that similar temples may not have existed before Mahomedan times.

[495] This mode of construction is only feasible when much larger stones are used than were here employed. The consequence was that the arch had become seriously crippled when I saw and sketched it. It has since been carefully restored by Government under efficient superintendence, and is now as sound and complete as when first erected. The two great side arches either were never completed, or have fallen down in consequence of the false mode of construction.

[496] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. iv. p. 313. Its present height, according to Gen. Cunningham, is (after the removal of the modern pavilion) 238 ft. 1 in. (‘Archæological Reports,’ vol i. p. 196).

[497] Translated by Walter Ewer, ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xiv. p. 480. See also Cunningham, ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. i. p. 132, et seqq.

[498] It is a curious illustration how difficult it sometimes is to obtain correct information in India, that when Gen. Cunningham published his ‘Reports’ in 1871, he stated, apparently on the authority of Mr. Cooper, Deputy Commissioner, that an excavation had been carried down to a depth of 26 ft., but without reaching the bottom. “The man in charge, however”—témoin oculaire—“assured him that the actual depth reached was 35 ft.”—Vol. i. p. 169. He consequently estimated the whole length at 60 ft., but fortunately ordered a new excavation, determined to reach the bottom—coûte qui coûte—and found it at 20 inches below the surface.—Vol. iv. p. 28, pl. 5. At a distance of a few inches below the surface it expands in a bulbous form to a diameter of 2 ft. 4 in., and rests on a gridiron of iron bars, which are fastened with lead into the stone pavement.

[499] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vii. p. 629.

[500] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. x. p. 64. These two translations are painfully discrepant in detail, though agreeing sufficiently as to the main facts. On the whole, I am inclined to think Bhau Daji’s the most correct, though I agree with Prinsep in believing that the more archaic form of the letters is owing to their being punched with a cold chisel on the iron, instead of being engraved as those on stone always were.

[501] There is no mistake about the pillar being of pure iron. Gen. Cunningham had a bit of it analysed in India by Dr. Murray, and another portion was analysed in the School of Mines here by Dr. Percy. Both found it pure malleable iron without any alloy.

[502] Can these Balhikas be the dynasty we have hitherto known as the Sah kings of Saurastra? They certainly were settled on the lower Indus from about the year A.D. 79, and were expelled, according to their own dates, A.D. 264 or 371. (See ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. viii. p. 28.) My impression is, that this may ultimately prove to be the true solution of the riddle.

[503] The same form of pendentive is found at Serbistan (Woodcut No. 946, vol. ii.), nearly ten centuries before this time.

[504] Cunningham, ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. ii. p. 261.

[505] I am sorry to differ from Gen. Cunningham on this matter. He has seen the mosque—I have not; but I have photographs and drawings of it, and directed Mr. Burgess’s attention especially to this point when he visited it, and the result is a conviction on my mind that the pillars now standing are unaltered in arrangement.

Tod, in his ‘Annals,’ treats it simply as a Jaina temple, without referring to any possible alterations, except additions made by Moslem architects, vol. i. p. 779, see also his plate, which is singularly correct.

[506] Owing to the Hindu part being undisturbed, and the Mahomedan part better built and with larger materials, the mosque is not in the same ruinous condition as that at the Kutub was before the late repairs. It is, however, in a filthy and neglected state, and might at a very slight outlay be preserved from further dilapidation, and its beauties very much enhanced. There is, so far as I can judge, no building in India more worthy of the attention of Government than this. The kind of care, however, that is bestowed upon it may be gathered from the following extract from a private letter from a gentleman high in the Government service in India, and one perfectly well informed as to what he was writing about: “Have you ever heard that some of the Hindu pillars of the great mosque at Ajmir were dragged from their places (I presume they were fallen pillars), and set up as a triumphal arch on the occasion of Lord Mayo’s visit? and have you heard that they were so insecurely converted that nobody dared to go under them, and that Lord Mayo and the inspired—— of architects went round it?” This is more than confirmed in a public letter by Sir John Strachey, Lieut.-Governor of the North-West Provinces, addressed to Lord Northbrook, on 25th August last. In this he speaks of “an over zealous district officer who, not long ago, actually pulled down the sculptured columns of a well-known temple of great antiquity”—the Arhai din ka Jhompra—“with the object of decorating a temporary triumphal arch through which the Viceroy was to pass.” He then proceeds to quote what Rousselet says regarding our neglect of such monuments, which is not one whit too severe.

[507] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. xxxiv. p. 1, et seqq., pls. 1-8. It is to me inconceivable that any one looking at these plates, especially the plans, pls. 7 and 8, can see anything in them but the usual tomb of a Mahomedan noble of the 15th century with its accompanying mosque.

[508] These dimensions are taken from the text and a plan of the building in Montgomery Martin’s edition of Buchanan Hamilton’s ‘Statistical Account of Shahabad,’ vol. i. p. 425. The plan is, however, so badly drawn that it can hardly be reproduced.

[509] The first to suggest this was the Baron Hügel, though his knowledge of the subject was so slight that his opinion would not have had much weight. The idea was, however, taken up afterwards and warmly advocated by the late Mr. Horne, B.C.S., and the Rev. Mr. Sherring, in a series of papers in the ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. xxxiv. p. 1, et seqq., and by the latter in his work on ‘The sacred city of the Hindus,’ p. 283, and elsewhere. They have hitherto failed to adduce a single example of similar pillars existing in any authentic Buddhist or Jaina building—they mean Jaina, though they say Buddhist—or any historical or other evidence that will bear a moment’s examination. There may have been some Jaina or Hindu buildings at Jaunpore of the 13th or 14th centuries that may have been utilised by the Mahomedans, but certainly nine-tenths at least of the pillars in these mosques were made at the time they were required for the places they now occupy.

[510] A view of this mosque will be found in Kittoe’s ‘Indian Architecture,’ but, unfortunately, no plan or dimensions. That quoted in the text is from memory.

[511] A view of it, but not a good one, is given in Daniell’s plates. It is partially seen in Woodcut No. 291.

[512] If the buildings of the Bakaraya Kund had been found within twenty miles of Ahmedabad, where there are dozens exactly like them, they would hardly have deserved a passing remark. Any one familiar with the style would have assigned them a date—A.D. 1450, or thereabouts—and would hardly have troubled himself to inquire who built them, they are so like all others of the same age.

[513] General Cunningham’s ‘Reports’ for 1862-63, vol. i. p. 287. From this I learn that the pillars surrounding the court on three sides have been removed since I saw them in 1836—this time, however, not by the English.

[514] See plate in Forbes’ ‘Oriental Memoirs,’ vol. iii. ch. xxx.

[515] As it is impossible by a woodcut to convey an impression of the beauty of these mosques, the reader is referred to the photographs of ‘Architecture of Ahmedabad,’ &c.

[516] Described further on, p. 538, Woodcuts Nos. 306 and 307.

[517] I understand from Mr. Burgess that, during his recent visit to Ahmedabad, he copied a number of inscriptions from the mosques there which prove that some of the names given to the buildings are erroneous. When these are published new names and dates must in some instances be given to several of the buildings, but the alterations, as I understand it, are not very important.

[518] All the particulars above quoted regarding that mosque are derived from a work published in Bombay in 1868, entitled, ‘Surat, Baroach, and other old Cities of Goojerat.’ By T. C. Hope, B.C.S. Illustrated by photographs, plans, and with descriptive text.

[519] Plans of these are in Mr. Hope’s work.

[520] There is a very good view of the tomb in Mr. Grindlay’s ‘Views of the East’; but the plan and details here given are from Mr. Hope’s work, sup. cit.

[521] A view of this palace, but not from the best point of view, will be found in Elliot’s ‘Views in the East.’

[522] In this respect it is something like the curvilinear pediments which Roman and Italian architects employed as window heads. Though detestable in themselves, yet we use and admire them because we are accustomed to them.

[523] These particulars are taken principally from Buchanan Hamilton’s ‘Statistics of Dinajepore,’ published by Montgomery Martin in his ‘Eastern India,’ 1838, vol. ii. p. 649, et seqq.

[524] Page 347, et seqq.

[525] Initial coinage of Bengal, by Edward Thomas, B.C.S. 1866.

[526] In the woodcut, though not so clearly as in the photograph, will be observed the long pendent root of the tree which has been planted by some bird in the upper gallery. In another year or two it will reach the ground, and then down comes the minar. Any one with a pocket-knife might save it by five minutes’ work. But Cui bono? says the Saxon.

[527] Ante, p. 393.

[528] Elphinstone’s ‘India,’ vol. ii. p. 57.

[529] For the plan and section of this mosque, and all indeed I know about it, I am indebted to my friend the Hon. Sir Arthur Gordon, at present governor of the Fiji Islands. He made the plans himself, and most liberally placed them at my disposal.

[530] I have photographs, but no measurements, of this street.

[531] Brigg’s translation of Ferishta, vol. ii. p. 510.

[532] There is a view of it from a sketch by Col. Meadows Taylor, in the ‘Oriental Annual’ for 1840.

[533] Bijapur has been singularly fortunate, not only in the extent, but in the mode in which it has been illustrated. A set of drawings—plans, elevations, and details—were made by a Mr. A. Cumming, C.E., under the superintendence of Capt. Hart, Bombay Engineers, which, for beauty of drawing and accuracy of detail, are unsurpassed by any architectural drawings yet made in India. These were reduced by photography, and published by me at the expense of the Government in 1859, in a folio volume with seventy-four plates, and afterwards in 1866 at the expense of the Committee for the Publication of the Antiquities of Western India, illustrated further by photographic views taken on the spot by Col. Biggs, R.A.

[534] Ante, vol. ii. p. 553.

[535] Adopting the numerical scale described in the introduction to the ‘True Principles of Beauty in Art,’ p. 140, I estimated the Parthenon as possessing 4 parts of technic value, 4 of æsthetic, and 4 phonetic, or 24 as its index number, being the highest known. The Taje I should on the contrary estimate as possessing 4 technic, 5 æsthetic, and 2 phonetic, not that it has any direct phonetic mode of utterance, but from the singular and pathetic distinctness with which every part of it gives utterance to the sorrow and affection it was erected to express. Its index number would consequently be 20, which is certainly as high as it can be brought, and near enough to the Parthenon for comparison at least.

[536] ‘Memoirs,’ translated by Erskine, p. 334.

[537] Loc. cit., pp. 341-2.

[538] Brigg’s translation, vol. ii. p. 71.

[539] Cunningham, ‘Reports,’ vol. i. p. 222.

[540] A description of this mosque is given in Mr. Carllyle’s ‘Report on the Buildings of Delhi,’ forming part of Cunningham’s fourth volume, but like everything else most unsatisfactory. Neither plan nor dimensions are given, mere verbiage conveying no distinct meaning.

[541] As I cannot find any trace of this building in Keene’s description of the fort in his third book on Agra, I presume it must have been utilised since my day. Unless it is the building he calls the Nobut Khana of Akbar’s palace (26). I have never seen it in any photograph of the place.

[542] It is not quite clear how much Rhotasgur owes its magnificence to Shere Shah, how much to Akbar; both certainly built there, and on the spot it might easily be ascertained how much belongs to each. Unfortunately, the part that belongs to the British is too easily ascertained. “They converted the beautiful Dewan Khand, of which Daniell published a drawing, into a stable for breeding horses.”—Hamilton’s ‘Gazetteer,’ sub voce.

[543] I have mislaid the measurements and plan I made of this building; and, as neither Gen. Cunningham nor his assistants give either plan or dimensions, I am unable to quote any figures in the text.

[544] The plan is taken from one by Gen. Cunningham (‘Reports,’ vol. ii., plate 91). He omits, however, these square projections. I have added them from the photographs.

[545] An attempt has lately been made by Gen. Cunningham and his assistants (‘Reports,’ vol. iv. p. 124), to ascribe this palace to Jehangir. On what authority is not stated; but unless it is very clear and distinct, I must decline to admit it. The whole evidence, so far as I can judge, is directly opposed to such an hypothesis. There is a plan of this palace, in his ‘Reports,’ vol. iv., plate 8.

[546] A cast of this throne is in the South Kensington Museum.

[547] Photographs of this palace are now common, and can be obtained anywhere; and recently Lieut. Cole’s ‘Report on Buildings in the Neighbourhood of Agra’ supplies some very interesting new ones with plans, from which the dimensions in the text are quoted.

[548] No plan or section of this tomb has ever, so far as I know, been published, though it has been in our possession for nearly a century. Those here given are from my own measurements, and, though they may be correct as far as they go, are not so detailed as those of such a monument ought to be, and would have been, had it been in the hands of any other European nation.

[549] The diagram is probably sufficient to explain the text, but must not be taken as pretending to be a correct architectural drawing. There were parts, such as the height of the lower dome and upper angle kiosks, I had no means of measuring, and after all, I was merely making memoranda for my own satisfaction.

[550] After the above was written, and the diagram drawn (Woodcut No. 334), I was not a little pleased to find the following entry in Mr. Finch’s journal. He resided in Agra for some years, and visited the tomb for the last time apparently in 1609, and after describing most faithfully all its peculiarities up to the upper floor, as it now stands, adds: “At my last sight thereof there was only overhead a rich tent with a Semaine over the tomb. But it is to be inarched over with the most curious white and speckled marble, and to be seeled all within with pure sheet gold richly inwrought.”—‘Purchas, his Pilgrims,’ vol. i. p. 440.

[551] Although the fact seems hardly now to be doubted, no very direct evidence has yet been adduced to prove that it was to foreign—Florentine—artists that the Indians owe the art of inlaying in precious stones generally known as work in “pietro duro.” Austin or Augustin de Bordeaux, is the only European artist whose name can positively be identified with any works of the class. He certainly was employed by Shah Jehan at Delhi, and executed that mosaic of Orpheus or Apollo playing to the beasts, after Raphael’s picture, which once adorned the throne there, and is now in the Indian Museum at South Kensington.

It is, however, hardly to be expected that natives should record the names of those who surpassed them in their own arts; and needy Italian adventurers were even less likely to have an opportunity of recording the works they executed in a strange and foreign country. Had any Italian who lived at the courts of Jehangir or Shah Jehan written a book, he might have recorded the artistic prowess of his countrymen, but none such, so far as I am aware, has yet seen light.

The internal evidence, however, seems complete. Up to the erection of the gates to Akbar’s tomb at Secundra in the first ten years of Jehangir’s reign, A.D. 1605-1615, we have infinite mosaics of coloured marble, but no specimen of “inlay.” In Eti-mad-Doulah’s tomb, A.D. 1615-1628, we have both systems in great perfection. In the Taje and palaces at Agra and Delhi, built by Shah Jehan, A.D. 1628-1668, the mosaic has disappeared, being entirely supplanted by the “inlay.” It was just before that time that the system of inlaying called “pietro duro” was invented, and became the rage at Florence and, in fact, all throughout Europe; and we know that during the reign of the two last-named monarchs many Italian artists were in their service quite capable of giving instruction in the new art.

[552] Something of the same sort occurred when the Turks occupied Constantinople. They adapted the architecture of the Christians to their own purposes, but without copying. Vide ante, vol. ii. p. 528, et seqq.

[553] The great bath was torn up by the Marquis of Hastings with the intention of presenting it to George IV., an intention apparently never carried out; but it is difficult to ascertain the facts now, as the whole of the marble flooring with what remained of the bath was sold by auction by Lord William Bentinck, and fetched probably 1 per cent. of its original cost; but it helped to eke out the revenues of India in a manner most congenial to the spirit of its governors.

[554] Since the appointment of Sir John Strachey, the present enlightened Governor of the North West Provinces, I understand that this state of affairs is entirely altered. Both care and money are now expended liberally for the protection and maintenance of such old buildings that remain in the province.

[555] Perfect plans of this palace exist in the War Department of India. It is a great pity the Government cannot afford the very few rupees it would require to lithograph and publish them. Without such plans it is very difficult to make any description intelligible. That in Keene’s ‘Handbook of Agra,’ though useful as far as it goes, is on too small a scale and not sufficiently detailed for purposes of architectural illustration.

[556] When we took possession of the palace every one seems to have looted after the most independent fashion. Among others, a Captain (afterwards Sir John) Jones tore up a great part of this platform, but had the happy idea to get his loot set in marble as table tops. Two of these he brought home and sold to the Government for £500, and they are now in the India Museum. No one can doubt that the one with the birds was executed by Florentine, or at least Italian artists; while the other, which was apparently at the back of the platform, is a bad copy from Raphael’s picture of Orpheus charming the beasts. As is well known, that again was a copy of a picture in the Catacombs. There Orpheus is playing on a lyre, in Raphael’s picture on a violin, and that is the instrument represented in the Delhi mosaic. Even if other evidence were wanting, this would be sufficient to set the question at rest. It certainly was not put there by the bigot Aurungzebe, nor by any of his successors.

[557] It ought in fairness to be added that, since they have been in our possession, considerable sums have been expended on the repair of these fragments.

[558] The excuse for this deliberate act of Vandalism was, of course, the military one, that it was necessary to place the garrison of Delhi in security in the event of any sudden emergency. Had it been correct it would have been a valid one, but this is not the case. Without touching a single building of Shah Jehan’s there was ample space within the walls for all the stores and matériel of the garrison of Delhi, and in the palace and Selim Ghur ample space for a garrison, more than doubly ample to man their walls in the event of an émeute. There was ample space for larger and better ventilated barracks just outside the palace walls, where the Sepoy lines now are, for the rest of the garrison, who could easily have gained the shelter of the palace walls in the event of any sudden rising of the citizens. It is, however, ridiculous to fancy that the diminished and unarmed population of the city could ever dream of such an attempt, while any foreign enemy with artillery strong enough to force the bastioned enceinte that surrounds the town would in a very few hours knock the palace walls about the ears of any garrison that might be caught in such a trap.

The truth of the matter appears to be this: the engineers perceived that by gutting the palace they could provide at no trouble or expense a wall round their barrack-yard, and one that no drunken soldier could scale without detection, and for this or some such wretched motive of economy the palace was sacrificed!

The only modern act to be compared with this is the destruction of the summer palace at Pekin. That, however, was an act of red-handed war, and may have been a political necessity. This was a deliberate act of unnecessary Vandalism—most discreditable to all concerned in it.

[559] A plan of this garden, with the Taje and all the surrounding buildings, will be found in the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. vii. p. 42.

[560] From its design I cannot help fancying that this screen was erected after Shah Jehan’s death. It certainly looks more modern.

[561] There are eight photographs of it in Capt. Lyon’s collection, and many also by others.

[562] Page 478, et seqq.

[563] If Lieut. Cole, instead of repeating plans and details of buildings which had already been published by Gen. Cunningham, had given us a plan and details of this unknown building, he might have rendered a service all would have been grateful for. What I know of it is principally derived from verbal communication with Col. Montgomerie, R.E.

[564] ‘Embassy to Ava in 1795.’ London, 1800, 4to., 27 plates.

[565] ‘Journal of Embassy to Court of Ava,’ 1827. 4to., plates.

[566] ‘Mission to Court of Ava in 1855.’ 4to., numerous illustrations.

[567] If any of our 1001 idle young men who do not know what to do with themselves or their money would only qualify themselves for, and carry out such a mission, it is wonderful how easily and how pleasantly they might add to our stores of knowledge. I am afraid it is not in the nature of the Anglo-Saxon to think of such a thing. Fox-hunting and pheasant-shooting are more congenial pursuits.

[568] ‘Mahawanso,’ p. 71.

[569] R. F. St. John, in the ‘Phœnix,’ vol. ii. p. 204, et seqq. Sir Arthur Phayre, in ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. xlii. p. 23, et seqq.

[570] Sir A. Phayre, loc. cit.

[571] Crawfurd’s ‘Embassy to Ava,’ vol. ii. p. 277.

[572] It has recently become the fashion to doubt the holding of this convocation 100 years after the death of Buddha; but this very pointed allusion to it, in the early Burmese annals, so completely confirms what is said in the ‘Mahawanso,’ that the fact of its being held does not appear to me doubtful.

[573] Yule, ‘Mission to Ava,’ p. 30.

[574] Loc. cit., p. 32.

[575] Yule’s ‘Marco Polo,’ vol. ii. p. 84, et seqq.

[576] Yule, ‘Mission to Ava,’ p. 36. As almost all the particulars here mentioned are taken from this work as the latest and best, it will not be necessary to repeat references on every page.

[577] I of course except the arches in the tower at Buddh Gaya, which, I believe, were introduced by these very Burmese in 1305. See ante, p. 69.

[578] ‘Mission to Ava,’ p. 65.

[579] Literally “Golden great god.” Madu is the Burmese for Maha Deva.

[580] See p. 58.

[581] See account of the Great Bell at Rangûn, by the Rev. G. H. Hough, ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xiv. p. 270.

[582] The above particulars are abstracted from a paper by Col. Sladen in the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iv. (N.S.) p. 406, with remarks by Col. Yule and others. It is curious that there is a discrepancy between the native and the European authorities as to the number of storeys—not mechanical, of course, but symbolical; whether, in fact, the basement should be counted as a storey, or not. The above I believe to be the correct enumeration. We shall presently meet with the same difficulty in describing Boro Buddor in Java.

[583] ‘Mission to the Court of Ava,’ p. 169.

[584] A view of this ruin will be found in Yule’s ‘Mission to Ava,’ plate 23.

[585] Yule’s ‘Mission to Ava,’ p. 163.

[586] The Siamese invariably change the Indian d into th.

[587] For the particulars of this desiccation of the Valley of the Ganges, see the ‘Journal of the Geological Society,’ April, 1863.

[588] This form is interesting to us as it is that adopted for the Albert Memorial in Hyde Park, the style of decoration of which is also much more like that employed in Siam than anything yet attempted out of doors in Europe.

[589] “As for the Indian kings none of them ever led an army out of India to attempt the conquest of any other country, lest they should be deemed guilty of injustice.”—Arrian, ‘Indica,’ ch. ix.

[590] ‘Bataviaasch Genootschap van Kunsten en Wetenschappen.’ They have done me the honour of electing me an honorary member of their Society—an honour I feel all the more as it was quite unsolicited and unexpected.

[591] There are twelve plates illustrating the same monument in Sir Stamford Raffles’ ‘History of Java.’

[592] Sir S. Raffles’ ‘History of Java,’ pl. 24; text, vol. i. p. 465, 8vo. edition.

[593] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. xvii. pp. 86, 87.

[594] Bastian, ‘Die Völker der Oestlichen Asien,’ vol. i. p. 393.

[595] Sir S. Raffles, vol. ii. p. 73.

[596] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society’ (N.S.), vol. iii. p. 153.

[597] There is little doubt that if the South Sea Islanders had at some distant epoch become civilized without European assistance, Captain Cook and the early explorers would have figured in their annals as English or French princes.

[598] Sir S. Raffles’ ‘History of Java,’ vol. ii., 8vo. edition, p. 87, et seqq.

[599] I am perfectly aware that this is not borne out by the translation of this inscription given by Dr. Friederich in vol. xxvi. of the ‘Verhandelingen;’ but being dissatisfied with its unmeaningness, I took it to my friend, Professor Eggeling, who is perhaps a better Sanscrit scholar than Friederich, and he fully confirms my view as above expressed.

[600] Yule’s ‘Marco Polo,’ vol. ii. p. 264, et seqq.

[601] Beal’s translation, p. 169.

[602] Raffles, vol. ii. p. 77, et seqq.

[603] About half of the photographs of the Batavian Society are filled with representations of these rude deities, which resemble more the images of Easter Island than anything Indian.

[604] Raffles, ‘History of Java,’ vol. ii. p. 93.

[605] The compilers of the catalogue of the photographs of the Batavian Society use 53 instead of 78 or 79 as the factor for converting Saka dates into those of the Christian Era. As, however, they give no reason for this, and Brumund, Leemans and all the best modern authors use the Indian index, it is here adhered to throughout.

[606] These latter dates are taken from Raffles and Crawfurd, but as they are perfectly well ascertained, no reference seems needful.

[607] ‘History of Java,’ vol. ii. p. 85.

[608] ‘Dictionary of Indian Archipelago,’ p. 66.

[609] ‘Boro Boudour,’ par Dr. C. Leemans. Leyden, 1874, p. 536. I quote from the French translation, having lent my original Dutch copy to Dr. Mayo of New College, Oxford. It was inadvertently packed among his baggage when he went to Fiji.

[610] Ante, p. 641. Also ‘Verhandelingen,’ &c., vol. xxvi. p. 31, et seqq. One of his inscriptions—the fourth—was found in Java proper.

[611] All these, or nearly all, have been identified by Dr. Leemans in the text that accompanies the plates.

[612] If Brian Hodgson would attempt it, he perhaps alone could explain all this vast and bewildering mythology. At present our means of identification is almost wholly confined to his representation in the second volume of the ‘Transactions’ of the Royal Asiatic Society, plates 1-4, and to the very inferior work of Schlagintweit, ‘Buddhismus in Thibet.’

[613] ‘Indische Alterthumskunde,’ vol. iv. p. 467.

[614] General Cunningham’s drawings, though nearly sufficient for anyone as familiar with all the styles as I have become, are not enough for anyone who is a stranger to the subject. I do not, indeed, know any Englishman who has the knowledge, combined with the powers of drawing, to be entrusted with this task. A Frenchman might be found who could do it, if he would be content to restrain his imagination.

[615] Col. Yule, from whose account most of these particulars are taken (‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ 1862), calls it “nearly naked;” but a drawing by Wilsen (‘Verhandelingen,’ vol. xix. p. 166) I think settles the question, that he is intended to be represented as clothed.

[616] An imperfect representation of this sculpture will be found in the ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vi. plate 53.

[617] Sir S. Raffles’ ‘History of Java,’ vol. ii. plate 32.

[618] The information here given is taken from Sir Stamford Raffles’ ‘History of Java,’ second edition, vol. ii. p. 17, et seqq. His plans, however, do not quite agree with the measurements in the text, a mistake arising, I believe, from the scales in the original drawings—now before me—being in Rheinland roods, which are not always converted into English feet.

[619] ‘History of Java,’ vol. ii. p. 85. Crawfurd makes it 1266 to 1296; but no confidence can be placed on his dates for buildings.

[620] ‘Boro Boeddoer,’ p. 433.

[621] ‘Verhandelingen,’ &c., vol. xxxiii. p. 222.

[622] ‘Boro Boeddoer,’ p. 439. ‘Verhandelingen,’ vol. xxxiii. p. 222.

[623] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. xiii. p. 166.

[624] ‘Boro Boeddoer,’ pp. 433-439.

[625] This is by no means so certain; but till some one capable of observing visits the place, we must assume it.

[626] Not however, of the more modern class of temples, inasmuch as when John Crawfurd visited Ava in 1826, he describes (p. 162, 2nd ed.) his visit to a temple just finished by the reigning monarch, which was adorned with a series of paintings on plaster representing scenes from the life of Buddha. Each of these had a legend in the modern Burmese character written over it; and it is curious to observe how nearly identical the descriptions are with those which might be written over any Buddhist series. All the scenes there depicted are not perhaps to be found at Bharhut or Sanchi, but all are at Amravati, and in the Gandhara monasteries, or are to be found among the sculptures at Boro Buddor.

[627] ‘Boro Boeddoer,’ p. 433.

[628] Col. Yule’s visit to Java, ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ 1861-1862, p. 3.

[629] Sir S. Raffles’ ‘History of Java,’ plates 31 and 61, vol. ii. p. 49, et seqq.

[630] Crawfurd, ‘Dict. Indian Archipelago,’ sub voce.

[631] Both Sir S. Raffles and Crawfurd seem to be mistaken in ascribing them to the Saivites; they seem to have been misled by the appearance of a Phallus, but there is no lingam.

[632] In the first three volumes of the photographs published by the Batavian Society are numerous examples of rude sculptures, which are indistinguishable from those of Easter Island. Crawfurd and other ethnologists do not seem to feel the least difficulty in extending the Malay race from Easter Island to Madagascar; and if this is so, it diminishes the improbabilities of another nearly allied family, extending through the Pacific Islands from Java to the American continent.

[633] ‘Travels in Indo-China, Cambodia, and Laos,’ by Henri Mouhot. 2 vols. 8vo. Murray, 1864.

[634] ‘Die Völker der Oestlichen Asien,’ von Dr. A. Bastian. Leipzig, 1866.

[635] ‘Voyage d’Exploration en Indo-Chine,’ 2 vols. quarto and folio, Atlas of plates. Paris, 1873.

[636] Few things are more humiliating to an Englishman than to compare the intelligent interest and liberality the French display in these researches, contrasted with the stolid indifference and parsimony of the English in like matters. Had we exercised a tithe of the energy and intelligence in the investigation of Indian antiquities or history, during the 100 years we have possessed the country, that the French displayed in Egypt during their short occupation of the valley of the Nile, or now in Cambodia, which they do not possess at all, we should long ago have known all that can be known regarding that country. Something, it is true, has been done of late years to make up for past neglect. General Cunningham’s appointment to the post of Archæological Surveyor of India, and that of Mr. Burgess to a similar office in the Bombay Presidency, are steps in the right direction, which, if persevered in, may lead to most satisfactory results. Many years must, however, elapse before the good work can be brought up to the position in which it ought to have been long ago, and meanwhile much that was most important for the purpose has perished, and no record of it now remains.

[637] The work is translated in extenso in Abel Rémusat’s ‘Nouveaux Mélanges Asiatiques,’ vol. i. p. 78, et seqq.

[638] Bastian, loc cit., vol. i. p. 393.

[639] Bastian, vol. i. p. 429.

[640] Nakhon is only the Siamese pronunciation of the Indian Nagara, Nuggur. Thom means “great.”

[641] The French have navigated the lake in a large steamer, and published detailed charts of the river. Maps are also found in Mouhot’s ‘Travels;’ but the best are those which are found in the Atlas of Lieut. Garnier’s work above referred to.

[642] Bastian, vol. i. p. 402.

[643] Mr. Thomson was informed that during the rains the whole was flooded, and the temple could be reached in boats.

[644] Outside the temple the sides of the causeways are in places ornamented with dwarf columns of circular form. They seem to simulate a bundle of eight reeds, and have tall capitals.

[645] Garnier, loc. cit., vol. i. p. 120. Bastian, vol. i. pp. 400, 415, 438, &c.

[646] In the extracts from the ‘Chinese Annals,’ translated by Abel Rémusat, in the first volume of the ‘Nouveaux Mélanges Asiatiques,’ he finds the earliest mention of the Cambodian kingdom in A.D. 616. From that period the accounts are tolerably consecutive to A.D. 1295, but before that nothing.

[647] ‘Nouveaux Mélanges Asiatiques,’ vol. i. p. 103.

[648] Bastian, vol. i. p. 404.

[649] Garnier, ‘Voyage,’ &c., vol. i. p. 74.

[650] ‘L’Art Khmer,’ p. 38.

[651] It would be interesting if among these we could identify that one of which the Chinese traveller gives the following description:—“A l’est de la ville est un autre temple de l’esprit nommé Pho-to-li, auquel on sacrifie des hommes. Chaque année le roi va dans ce temple faire lui-même un sacrifice humain pendant la nuit.”—‘Nouveaux Mélanges Asiatiques,’ vol. i. p. 83.

[652] At Buribun, on the other side of the lake, Dr. Bastian informs me there is a complete copy of the Nakhon Wat sculptures, carved in wood in the 16th century. The place was the residence of the kings of Cambodia after the fall of the capital, and as original art had then perished, they took this mode of adorning their palace. What a prize for any European museum!

[653] ‘Nouveaux Mélanges Asiatiques,’ vol. i. p. 103. Garnier, woodcuts pp. 61 and 62.

[654] ‘Journal of the Royal Geographical Society,’ vol. xxxv. p. 75.

[655] The population of China is generally estimated at 400 millions of souls. This I believe to be a gross exaggeration, and would feel very much more inclined to put it at 300 millions, and of that number to estimate the Buddhists at 100 millions of souls. This, however, in the present state of our knowledge, is, and must be, mere guess-work. If we put down 50 millions for the Buddhist population of Thibet, Manchuria, Burmah, Siam, Cambodia, and Ceylon, we shall probably not err on the side of underestimating them, making 150 millions the total number of followers of this religion in the whole world, or one-eighth or one-tenth of the human race—not one-third or one-fourth, at which they are usually estimated.

[656] The following description is abridged from that by Mr. A. Michie in his work entitled ‘The Siberian Overland Route,’ Murray, 1864. It is by far the most distinct I have met with. The larger woodcuts in this chapter are generally borrowed from his work. It must, however, be observed that his descriptions differ sometimes essentially from those hitherto current in European books, which were generally derived from the accounts of the Jesuits, who probably obtained their information from Chinese sources. It is generally safer to trust to the account of an educated gentleman describing what he saw, than to the essay of a mere scholar compiling from information conveyed in a foreign tongue.

[657] ‘Nouveaux Mélanges Asiatiques,’ vol. i. p. 110.

[658] The tower was destroyed in the recent Taeping rebellion.

[659] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. vii. p. 331 (N.S.), vol. v. p. 14, et. seqq.

[660] In the year 1870 I published in the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society’ (N.S.), vol. iv. p. 81, et seqq., an article on Indian chronology, in which my views on the subject were stated at greater length and more detail than it is proposed to do here. Being addressed to those who were supposed to be more or less familiar with the subject, the paper took the form of an argument, rather than of a statement, and is, consequently, difficult to follow by those to whom the subject is new. The following is an abstract of that paper, with such corrections as have occurred to me in the meanwhile, and stated in a consecutive form, and with only those details that seem necessary to render it intelligible. For further particulars on special points the reader is referred to the article itself.

[661] The lists used for this statement of pre-Buddhist chronology are those compiled by James Prinsep, and published in his ‘Useful Tables’ in 1836. They were afterwards revised and republished by Ed. Thomas, in his edition of Prinsep’s works, in 1858. In a regular treatise on chronology it would be indispensable to refer to the Puranas themselves; in a mere statement of results these tables are amply sufficient.

[662] Crawfurd’s ‘Embassy to Ava,’ vol. ii. p. 274.

[663] Bigandet’s ‘Life of Gaudama,’ p. 323.

[664] ‘Embassy to Ava,’ loc. cit.

[665] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vi. p. 715.

[666] Unfortunately the Chinese annals, to which we generally look for assistance in our difficulties, are not likely to afford us any in this. Confucius was born 551 B.C., and died 478; he was consequently only eight years old when Buddha died, and in order to give Buddha the necessary precedence in date, the Buddhists boldly added five centuries to this, placing him about 1000 B.C. This struggle between truth and falsehood led to such confusion that in the 7th century Hiouen Thsang wrote: “Depuis le Nirvana jusqu’aujourd’hui les uns comptent 1200 ans, les autres 1500 ans: il y en a qui affirment qu’il s’est écoulé plus de 900, mais que le nombre de 1000 n’est pas encore complet.” (‘Histoire,’ p. 131. ‘Vie et Voyages,’ i. 335.) The first is the nearest, according to our ideas. He was writing apparently in 1190 A.B. It may be 1200, if it was written after his return to China; but from this confusion it is evident no reliance can be placed on any dates he may quote from the Nirvana.

[667] ‘Embassy to Ava.’ Appendix.

[668] Vishnu Purana, p. 463.

[669] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iv. (N.S.) p. 85.

[670] Crawfurd’s ‘Embassy to Ava,’ vol. ii. p. 277.

[671] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vii. p. 261; ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. xii. p. 232; Cunningham’s ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. v. p. 20, &c., &c.

[672] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vi. p. 714.

[673] Wilson’s ‘Vishnu Purana,’ Second Edition, vol. iv. p. 200; see also p. 232.

[674] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. v. p. 42 and 47.

[675] As the commencement of this era is not coincident with the years we employ, but about half-way between 78 and 79, either of these figures may be employed in converting years of the Christian Era into those of the Saka or Ballabhi, or Gupta Samvats. Throughout this work I have used the latter figure as that more generally in use.

[676] This list is abstracted principally from one in vol. viii. p. 27, ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ quoting only such dates as appear certain. The earlier names are taken from a paper by Bhau Daji, vol. ix. p. 243 of the same journal.

[677] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. v. p. 49.

[678] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iv. (N.S.) p. 129.

[679] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. viii. p. 119.

[680] Ibid.

[681] Ibid., vol. ix. p. 238; see also Bhandarkar, MS. translation.

[682] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. viii. p. 28.

[683] Essay on the Sah Kings of Saurastra, ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. xii. p. 16; and ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. xxiv. p. 503; see also Thomas’s ‘Prinsep,’ vol. ii. p. 95.

[684] Thomas’s edition of ‘Prinsep,’ vol. i. p. 242, et seqq.; see also p. 365, et seqq.

[685] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vii. p. 634.

[686] The Vishnu Purana has Maunas, the Vayu and Matsya, Hunas. Wilson’s ‘Vishnu Purana,’ vol. iv. p. 209.

[687] Wilson’s ‘Vishnu Purana,’ vol. iv. pp. 201-218.

[688] I need hardly say that this is not universally admitted by Indian archæologists. Some indeed of the most eminent among them place the Guptas considerably earlier. My conviction, however, is that they never would have done so, had it not been that they place a mistaken confidence on a passage in a foreign author of the 11th century, translated by Rémusat to the following effect: “Quant au Goupta Kala (ère des Gouptas), on entend par le mot Goupta des gens qui, dit-on, étaient méchants et puissants, et l’ère qui porte leur nom est l’époque de leur extermination. Apparemment Ballabha suivit immédiatement les Gouptas, car l’ère des Gouptas commence aussi l’an 241 de l’ère de Saca.” (‘Journal Asiatique,’ 4me série, tom. iv. p. 286.)

Albiruni, from whom this passage is taken, lived at the court of Mahmúd of Ghazni, in the 11th century, and was learned beyond his compeers in the learning of the Hindus. He collected facts and dates with industry, and recorded them faithfully. But he would have been a magician if he could have unravelled the tangled meshes with which the Hindus had purposely obscured their chronology, and could have seen through all the falsifications invented six centuries earlier. We could not do so now without the aid of coins, dated inscriptions, and buildings. None of these were available in his day, and without their aid, the wonder is, not that he blundered in his inductions, but that he went so near the truth as he did. His facts and figures are valuable, and may generally be relied upon. His mode of putting them together and his inductions are, as generally, worthless—not from any fault of his, but because they had been purposely falsified by those who presented them to him.

[689] ‘Indian Antiquary,’ vol. ii. p. 312.

[690] ‘Journal Asiatique,’ series iv. vol. iv. p. 285.

[691] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vii. p. 634.

[692] Thomas’s ‘Prinsep,’ i. p. 250.

[693] This date is from an unpublished copper-plate grant, in the possession of Gen. Cunningham, and is in addition to the three others of the same reign quoted in my previous paper, p. 112.

[694] ‘Indian Antiquary,’ vol. ii. p. 312; see also vol. iii. p. 344.

[695] ‘Topographia Christiana,’ lib. xi. p. 338, edit. Paris, 1707.

[696] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. x. p. 60.

[697] ‘Histoire des Huns,’ vol. i. part ii. lib. iv. pp. 325, et seqq.

[698] Malcolm’s ‘Persia,’ vol. i. p. 118. Briggs’s translation of Ferishta, introd. lxxvii. et seqq.; Dow’s translation, p. 13.

[699] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vi. 1837, p. 963; also Thomas’s ‘Prinsep,’ vol. i. p. 234.

[700] Ibid., vol. v. plates 36 and 37; also Thomas’s ‘Prinsep,’ vol. i. p. 277, plate 23.

[701] Thomas’s ‘Prinsep,’ vol. i. p. 407, et passim.

[702] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ 1866, p. 273. See also Cunningham’s ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. iii. p. 136.

[703] ‘Journal Asiatique,’ 4me série, tom. iv. p. 286.

[704] Tod’s ‘Annals of Rajputana,’ vol. i. p. 801.

[705] Lassen’s ‘Ind. Alt.’, vol. ii. p. 752, et seqq. to 987; Dowson, ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society’ (N.S.), vol. i. p. 247, et seqq.; Thomas’s ‘Prinsep,’ vol. i. p. 270-276; Cunningham’s ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. iii. p. 56; Babu Rajendra Mittra, ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. xliii. p. 372, &c., &c.

[706] ‘Annals,’ vol. i. p. 216, et seqq. At p. 230 he quotes another account, which places the destruction of the Ballabhi era at 305, instead of 205, as in the previous statement. These are evidently clerical errors. If he had found another 405, it would probably have been correct within a year or so—405+319=724.

[707] ‘Vie et Voyages,’ pp. 206, 254, 260; ‘Relations,’ &c., vol. ii. p. 163.

[708] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. viii. p. 245.

[709] Ibid., vol. viii. p. 245.

[710] Forbes’ ‘Ras Mala,’ vol. i. p. 18; Tod, ‘Annals,’ vol. i. p. 230.

[711] Elliot, ‘Historians of India,’ vol. i. p. 417.

[712] Loc. cit., 432, et seqq.

[713] Loc. cit., 441-42.

[714] ‘Ras Mala,’ vol. i. p. 24; Tod’s ‘Travels,’ p. 149.

[715] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. x. p. 70.

[716] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vii. p. 972.

[717] These lists were republished by Professor Dowson in the new series of the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. i. p. 253, et seqq., but with chronological additions that are by no means improvements.

[718] The advantage of their publication was to strongly felt by the Council of the Royal Asiatic Society that in 1873 they, backed by a letter from Sir Walter, appealed to Her Majesty’s Secretary of State for India in Council, to sanction an expenditure not exceeding £200 for the purpose. It seems, however, that the finances of India could not bear the strain, for in August last a reply was received to the effect that “His Lordship regrets that he cannot consent to charge the public revenues of India with the cost of such an undertaking.” As the Indian Council are responsible, and know best what should be done and what refused, there is no more to be said about the matter, though to outsiders this seems slightly inconsistent with their grant of £2000 to Max Müller for doing nothing that he had not been well paid for doing beforehand. As no other means are available in this country, it is to be hoped that either the French or German Governments will take it up. They have always abundance of funds for such purposes; and had these inscriptions been collected by one of their countrymen, they would have been published without a year’s delay after having been brought home, although they have no interest in India that can for one moment be compared with ours.

[719] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iv. p. 12.

[720] ‘Report on Belgam and Kuladgi.’ p. 24.

[721] ‘Mémoires des Contrées,’ &c., vol. ii. p. 150.

[722] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iii. p. 206, et seqq.

[723] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vi. p. 68.

[724] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iv. p. 9.

[725] ‘Vie et Voyages,’ p. 188.

[726] ‘Vie et Voyages,’ p. 215.

[727] ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,’ vol. vi. p. 69.

[728] ‘Vie et Voyages,’ p. 204.

[729] ‘Relations,’ &c., vol. ii. p. 156.

[730] Loc. cit., vol. ii. p. 42.

[731] When I wrote last on the subject (‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iv. N.S.) I assumed the figures as they stand, as it did not then appear to me of much importance, and as this is the only arbitrary adjustment I have had occasion to make in the chronology, I have let this stand in the text, leaving the correction to be made when authority is found for it. The twenty years, more or less, do not affect any architectural question mooted in the preceding pages.

[732] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. xv. p. 87.

[733] ‘Asiatic Researches,’ vol. ix. p. 150.

[734] Loc. cit. p. 161.

[735] General Cunningham hesitates between 17 and 24 A.D. for his death (‘Numis. Chron.,’ vol. viii. p. 175); Lassen brings him down to 40 A.D. (‘Ind. Alt.,’ vol. ii. p. xxiv).

[736] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. iii. p. 29, et seqq. Ed. Thomas’s Introduction to ‘Marsden,’ p. 46, et seqq.

[737] ‘Journal Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. ix. p. 242.

[738] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. ii. p. 266.

[739] Loc. cit. p. 68.

[740] They are all given in Thomas’s edition of ‘Prinsep,’ vol. ii. p. 173, et seqq., to which the reader is referred.

[741] ‘Archæological Reports,’ vol. v. p. 59.

[742] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. vii. (N.S.) p. 376, et seqq.

[743] Beal’s ‘Life of Fa Hian,’ Introduction, p. xx.

[744] ‘Relations des Contrées,’ &c., vol. i. p. 190, et seqq.

[745] I am indebted for this to Cunningham’s ‘Geography of India,’ p. 91.

[746] Cunningham’s ‘Ancient Geography of India,’ p. 92.

[747] One of the most useful manuals ever published for the use of students of Indian history and chronology was Prinsep’s ‘Useful Tables of Indian Dynasties, &c.’ They were republished by Mr. Thomas in his edition of ‘Prinsep,’ with considerable additions and many improvements by himself, but the edition is exhausted. There could hardly be any better service done for the cause, than if he or some one would republish them in a separate form, so as to render them generally available. It is a pity Government has no funds available for such a purpose, for I am afraid it would hardly pay as a bookseller’s speculation.

[748] ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,’ vol. iv. (N.S.) p. 131, et seqq.

[749] ‘Journal Asiatique,’ 4me série, tom. iv. p. 282.

[750] Troyer’s translation of the ‘Raja Tarangini,’ vol. ii. p. 43. In Wilson’s translation it is said, “A different monarch from the Saccari Vicramaditya, though sometimes erroneously identified with that prince.”—‘Asiatic Researches’, vol. xv. p. 32.

[751] Loc. cit. p. 76.

[752] From Introduction to Turnour’s ‘Mahawanso,’ p. xxxiii., where the names, places of birth, and Bo-trees of the whole twenty-four are given.

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