CHAPTER 11

=The Mukunddarra Pass.=—We marched before daybreak through the famed

pass of Mukunddarra,[11.11.1] and caught a glimpse at the outlet of the

fine plains of Malwa. We then turned abruptly to the right, and skirted

the range which divides Haravati from Malwa, over a rich champaign

tract, in a re-entering angle of the range, which gradually contracted

to the point of exit, up the mountains of Pachel.

The sun rose just as we cleared the summit of the pass, and we halted

for a few minutes at the tower that guards the ascent, to look upon the

valley behind: the landscape was bounded on either side by the ramparts

of nature, enclosing numerous villages, until the eye was stopped by the

eastern horizon. We proceeded on the terrace of this table-land, of

gradual ascent, through a thick forest, when, as we reached the point of

descent, the sun cleared the barrier which we had just left, and darting

his beams through the foliage, illuminated the castle of Bhainsror,

while the new fort of Dangarmau appeared as a white speck in the gloom

that still enveloped the Patar.

=An Atīt Monastery.=—We descended along a natural causeway, the rock

being perfectly bare, without a particle of mould or vegetation. Small

pillars, or uninscribed tablets, placed erect in the centre of little

heaps of stone, seemed to indicate the scene of murders, when the Bhil

lord of the pass exacted his toll from all who traversed his dominion.

They proved, however, to be marks placed by the Banjaras to guide their

tandas, or caravans, through the devious tracks of the forest. As we

continued to descend, enveloped on all sides by woods and rocks, we lost

sight of the towers of Bhainsror, and on reaching the foot of the Pass,

the first object we saw was a little monastery of Atits,[11.11.2]

founded by the chiefs of Bhainsror: it is called Jhalaka. We passed

close to their isolated dwelling, on the terraced roof of which a party

of the fraternity were squatted round a fire, enjoying the warmth of the

morning sun. Their wild [703] appearance corresponded with the scene

around; their matted hair and beard had never known a comb; their bodies

were smeared with ashes (_bhabut_), and a shred of cloth round the loins

seemed the sole indication that they belonged to a class possessing

human feelings. Their lives are passed in a perpetual routine of

adoration of Chaturbhuja, the ‘four-armed’ divinity, and they subsist on

the produce of a few patches of land, with which the chiefs of Bhainsror

have endowed this abode of wild ascetics, or with what their patrons or

the townspeople and passengers make up to them. The head of the

establishment, a little, vivacious but wild-looking being, about sixty

years of age, came forth to bestow his blessing, and to beg something

for his order. He, however, in the first place, elected me one of his

_chelas_, or disciples, by marking my forehead with a tika of _bhabut_,

which he took from a platter made of dhak-leaves;[11.11.3] to which rite

of inauguration I submitted with due gravity. The old man proved to be a

walking volume of legendary lore; but his conversation became

insufferably tedious. Interruption was in vain; he could tell his story

only in his own way, and in order to get at a point of local history

connected with the sway of the Ranas, I was obliged to begin from the

creation of the world, and go through all the theogonies, the combats of

the Surs and Asurs, the gods and Titans of Indian mythology; to bewail

with Sita the loss of her child, her rape by Rawan, and the whole of the

wars of Rama waged for her recovery; when, at length, the genealogy of

the family commenced, which this strange being traced through all their

varying patronymics of Daityas, Riks, Guhilot, Aharya, Sesodia; at which

last he again diverged, and gave me an episode to explain the etymology

of the distinguishing epithet. I subjoin it, as a specimen of the

anchorite’s historical lore:

=Origin of the Name Sesodia.=—In these wilds, an ancient Rana of Chitor

had sat down to a _got_ (feast) consisting of the game slain in the

chase; and being very hungry, he hastily swallowed a piece of meat to

which a gad-fly adhered. The fly grievously tormented the Rana’s

stomach, and he sent for a physician. The wiseman (_bedi_) secretly

ordered an attendant to cut off the tip of a cow’s ear, as the only

means of saving the monarch’s life. On obtaining this forbidden morsel,

the Bedi folded it in a piece of thin cloth, and attaching a string to

it, made the royal patient swallow it. The gad-fly fastened on the bait,

and was dragged to light. The physician was rewarded; but the curious

Rana insisted on knowing by what means the cure was effected, and when

he heard that a piece of sacred kine had passed his lips, he determined

to expiate the enormity in a manner which its heinousness required, and

to swallow boiling lead (_sisa_)! A vessel was put [704] on the fire,

and half a ser soon melted, when, praying that his involuntary offence

might be forgiven, he boldly drank it off; but lo! it passed through him

like water. From that day, the name of the tribe was changed from Aharya

to Sesodia.[11.11.4] The old Jogi as firmly believed the truth of this

absurd tale as he did his own existence, and I allowed him to run on

till the temple of Barolli suddenly burst upon my view from amidst the

foliage that shrouded it. The transition was grand; we had for some time

been picking our way along the margin of a small stream that had worked

itself a bed in the rock over which lay our path, and whose course had

been our guide to this object of our pilgrimage. As we neared the sacred

fane, still following the stream, we reached a level spot overshadowed

by the majestic kur and amba,[11.11.5] which had never known the axe. We

instantly dismounted, and by a flight of steps attained the court of the

temple.

[Illustration:

FRAGMENT FROM THE RUINS OF BAROLLI.

_To face page 1752._

]

=The Barolli Temples.=—To describe its stupendous and diversified

architecture is impossible; it is the office of the pencil alone, but

the labour would be almost endless. Art seems here to have exhausted

itself, and we were, perhaps now for the first time, fully impressed

with the beauty of Hindu sculpture. The columns, the ceilings, the

external roofing, where each stone presents a miniature temple, one

rising over another, until crowned by the urnlike _kalas_, distracted

our attention. The carving on the capital of each column would require

pages of explanation, and the whole, in spite of its high antiquity, is

in wonderful preservation. This is attributable mainly to two causes:

every stone is chiselled out of the close-grained quartz rock, perhaps

the most durable (as it is the most difficult to work) of any; and in

order that the Islamite should have some excuse for evading their

iconoclastic law, they covered the entire temple with the finest marble

cement, so adhesive, that it is only where the prevalent winds have

beaten upon it that it is altogether worn off, leaving the sculptured

edges of the stone as smooth and sharp as if carved only yesterday.

The grand temple of Barolli is dedicated to Siva, whose emblems are

everywhere visible.[11.11.6] It stands in an area of about two hundred

and fifty yards square, enclosed by a wall built of unshaped stones

without cement. Beyond this wall are groves of majestic trees, with many

smaller shrines and sacred fountains. The first object that struck my

notice, just before entering the area, was a pillar, erect in the earth,

with a hooded-snake sculptured around it. The doorway, which is

destroyed, must have been very curious, and the remains that choke up

the interior are highly interesting. One of these specimens was entire,

and unrivalled in taste and beauty. The principal figures are of Siva

and his consort, Parbati, with their attendants. He stands [705] upon

the lotus, having the serpent twined as a garland. In his right hand he

holds the _damru_, or little drum, with which, as the god of war, he

inspires the warrior; in his left is the _khopra_, formed of a human

skull, out of which he drinks the blood of the slain. The other two arms

have been broken off: a circumstance which proves that even the

Islamite, to whom the act may be ascribed, respected this work of art.

The ‘mountain-born’ is on the left of her spouse, standing on the

_kurma_, or tortoise, with braided locks, and ear-rings made of the

conch-shell. Every limb is in that easy flowing style peculiar to

ancient Hindu art, and wanting in modern specimens. Both are covered

with beaded ornaments, and have no drapery. The firm, masculine attitude

of ‘Baba Adam,’ as I have heard a Rajput call Mahadeo, contrasts well

with the delicate feminine outline of his consort. The serpent and lotus

intertwine gracefully over their heads. Above, there is a series of

compartments filled with various figures, the most conspicuous of which

is the chimerical animal called the Grasda, a kind of horned lion; each

compartment being separated by a wreath of flowers, tastefully arranged

and distributed. The animal is delineated with an ease not unworthy the

art in Europe. Of the various other figures many are mutilated; one is a

hermit playing on a guitar, and above him are a couple of deer in a

listening posture. Captain Waugh is engaged on one of the figures, which

he agrees with me in pronouncing unrivalled as a specimen of art. There

are parts of them, especially the heads, which would not disgrace

Canova. They are in high relief, being almost detached from the slab. In

this fragment (about eight feet by three) the chief figures are about

three feet.

The centre piece, forming a kind of frieze, is nearly entire, and about

twelve feet by three; it is covered with sculpture of the same

character, mostly the celestial choristers, with various instruments,

celebrating the praises of Siva and Parbati. Immediately within the

doorway is a small shrine to the ‘four-armed’; but the Islamite having

likewise deprived him of the supernumerary pair, the Bhil takes him for

Devi, of whom they are desperately afraid, and in consequence the

forehead of the statue is liberally smeared with vermilion.

[Illustration:

OUTLINE OF A TEMPLE TO MAHADEVA AT BAROLLI.

_To face page 1754._

]

On the left, in advance of the main temple, is one about thirty feet

high, containing an image of Ashtabhuji Mata, or the ‘eight-armed

mother’; but here the pious Muslim has robbed the goddess of all her

arms, save that with which she grasps her shield, and has also removed

her head. She treads firmly on the centaur, Maheswar,[11.11.7] whose

dissevered head lies at some distance in the area, while the lion of the

Hindu Cybele [706] still retains his grasp of his quarters. The Joginis

and Apsarases, or ‘maids of war’ of Rajput martial poetry, have been

spared.

On the right is the shrine of Trimurti, the triune divinity. Brahma’s

face, in the centre, has been totally obliterated, as has that of

Vishnu, the Preserver; but the Destroyer is uninjured. The tiara, which

covers the head[11.11.8] of this triple divinity, is also entire, and of

perfect workmanship. The skill of the sculptor “can no further go.”

Groups of snakes adorn the clustering locks on the ample forehead of

Siva, which are confined by a bandeau, in the centre of which there is a

death’s head ornament, hideously exact. Various and singularly elegant

devices are wrought in the tiara: in one, two horses couped from the

shoulder, passing from a rich centring and surmounted by a death’s head;

a dissevered arm points to a vulture advancing to seize it, while

serpents are wreathed round the neck and hands of the Destroyer, whose

half-opened mouth discloses a solitary tooth, and the tongue curled up

with a demoniacal expression. The whole is colossal, the figures being

six feet and a half high. The relief is very bold, and altogether the

group is worthy of having casts made from it.

We now come to the grand temple itself, which is fifty-eight feet in

height, and in the ancient form peculiar to the temples of Siva. The

body of the edifice, in which is the sanctum of the god, and over which

rises its pyramidal _sikhara_, is a square of only twenty-one feet; but

the addition of the domed vestibule (_mandap_) and portico makes it

forty-four by twenty-one. An outline of this by Ghasi, a native artist

(who labours at Udaipur for the same daily pay as a tailor, carpenter,

or other artisan), gives a tolerably good notion of its appearance,

though none of its beauty. The whole is covered with mythological

sculpture, without as well as within, emblematic of the ‘great god’

(_Mahadeo_), who is the giver, as well as the destroyer, of life. In a

niche outside, to the south, he is armed against the Daityas (Titans),

the _munda-mala_, or skull-chaplet, reaching to his knees, and in seven

of his arms are offensive weapons. His cap is the frustum of a cone,

composed of snakes interlaced, with a fillet of skulls: the _khopra_ is

in his hand, and the victims are scattered around. On his right is one

of the maids of slaughter (_Jogini_) drunk with blood, the cup still at

her lip, and her countenance expressive of vacuity; while below, on the

left, is a female personification of Death, mere skin and bone: a sickle

(_khurpi_) in her right hand,[11.11.9] its knob a death’s head,

completes this group of the attributes of destruction [707].

To the west is Mahadeo under another form, a beautiful and animated

statue, the expression mild, as when he went forth to entice the

mountain-nymph, Mena, to his embrace. His tiara is a blaze of

finely-executed ornaments, and his snake-wreath, which hangs round him

as a garland, has a clasp of two heads of Seshnag (the serpent-king),

while Nandi below is listening with placidity to the sound of the

_damru_. His _khopra_, and _kharg_, or skull-cap, and sword, which he is

in the attitude of using, are the only accompaniments denoting the god

of blood.

The northern compartment is a picture, disgustingly faithful, of death

and its attributes, vulgarly known as Bhukhi Mata, or the

personification of famine, lank and bare; her necklace, like her lord’s,

of skulls. Close by are two mortals in the last stage of existence, so

correctly represented as to excite an unpleasant surprise. The outline,

I may say, is anatomically correct. The mouth is half open and

distorted, and although the eye is closed in death, an expression of

mental anguish seems still to linger upon the features. A beast of prey

is approaching the dead body; while, by way of contrast, a male figure,

in all the vigour of youth and health, lies prostrate at her feet.

Such is a faint description of the sculptured niches on each of the

external faces of the _mandir_, whence the spire rises, simple and

solid. In order, however, to be distinctly understood, I shall give some

slight ichnographic details. First, is the _mandir_ or _cella_, in which

is the statue of the god; then the _mandap_, or, in architectural

nomenclature, the _pronaos_; and third, the portico, with which we shall

begin, though it transcends all description.

[Illustration:

SCULPTURED NICHE ON THE EXTERIOR OF THE TEMPLE AT BAROLLI.

_To face page 1756._

]

Like all temples dedicated to Bal-Siva,[11.11.10] the vivifier, or

‘sun-god,’ it faces the east. The portico projects several feet beyond

the _mandap_, and has four superb columns in front, of which the outline

by Ghasi conveys but a very imperfect idea. Flat fluted pilasters are

placed on either side of the entrance of the _mandap_, serving as a

support to the internal _toran_, or triumphal arch, and a single column

intervenes on each side between the pilasters and the columns in front.

The columns are about eighteen feet in height. The proportions are

perfect; and though the difference of diameter between the superior and

inferior portions of the shaft is less than the Grecian standard, there

is no want of elegance of effect, whilst it gives an idea of more

grandeur. The frieze is one mass of sculptured figures, generally of

human beings, male and female, in pairs; the horned monster termed

Grasda separating the different pairs. The internal _toran_ or triumphal

arch, which is invariably attached to all ancient temples of the

sun-god, is [708] of that peculiar curvature formed by the junction of

two arcs of a circle from different centres, a form of arch well known

in Gothic and Saracenic architecture, but which is an essential

characteristic of the more ancient Hindu temples. The head of a Grasda

crowns its apex, and on the outline is a concatenation of figures armed

with daggers, apparently ascending the arch to strike the monster. The

roof of the Mandap (_pronaos_) cannot be described: its various parts

must be examined with microscopic nicety in order to enter into detail.

In the whole of the ornaments there is an exact harmony which I have

seen nowhere else; even the miniature elephants are in the finest

proportions, and exquisitely carved.

The ceilings both of the portico and Mandap are elaborately beautiful:

that of the portico, of one single block, could hardly be surpassed.

(_Vide_ Plate.) Of the exterior I shall not attempt further description:

it is a grand, a wonderful effort of the Silpi (architect), one series

rising above and surpassing the other, from the base to the urn which

surmounts the pinnacle.

The sanctum contains the symbol of the god, whose local appellation is

Rori Barolli, a corruption of Bal-rori, from the circumstance of

Balnath, the sun-god, being here typified by an orbicular stone termed

rori, formed by attrition in the Chulis or whirlpools of the Chambal,

near which the temple stands, and to which phenomena it probably owed

its foundation. This symbolic rori is not fixed, but lies in a groove in

the internal ring of the Yoni; and so nicely is it poised, that with a

very moderate impulse it will continue revolving while the votary

recites a tolerably long hymn to the object of his adoration. The old

ascetic, who had long been one of the zealots of Barolli, amongst his

other wonders gravely told me, that with the momentum given by his

little finger, in former days, he could make it keep on its course much

longer than now with the application of all his strength.

Some honest son of commerce thought it but right that the _mandira_

(cella) of Bal-rori should be graced by a Parbati, and he had one made

and placed there. But it appeared to have offended the god, and matters

soon after went wrong with the Banya: first his wife died, then his son,

and at length he became _diwala_, or ‘bankrupt.’ In truth he deserved

punishment for his caricature of the ‘mountain-born’ Mena, who more

resembles a Dutch _burgomestre_ than the fair daughter of

Sailapati.[11.11.11]

Fronting the temple of Bal-rori, and apart from it about twenty yards,

is another [709] superb edifice, called the Singar-chaori, or nuptial

hall.[11.11.12] It is a square (chaori) of forty feet, supported by a

double range of columns on each face, the intercolumniations being quite

open; and although these columns want the elegant proportions of the

larger temple, they are covered with exquisite sculpture, as well as the

ceilings. In the centre of the hall is an open space about twelve feet

square; and here, according to tradition, the nuptials of Raja Hun with

the fair daughter of a Rajput prince, of whom he had long been

enamoured, were celebrated;[11.11.13] to commemorate which event, these

magnificent structures were raised: but more of this Hun anon. The

external roof (or _sikhara_, as the Hindu Silpi terms the various roofs

which cover their temples) is the frustum of a pyramid, and a singular

specimen of architectural skill, each stone being a miniature temple,

elegantly carved, gradually decreasing in size to the _kalas_ or ball,

and so admirably fitted to each other, that there has been no room for

vegetation to insinuate itself, and consequently they have sustained no

injury from time.

[Illustration:

CEILING OF THE PORTICO OF TEMPLE AT BAROLLI.

_To face page 1758._

]

Midway between the nuptial hall and the main temple there is a low

altar, on which the bull, Nandiswar, still kneels before the symbolic

representation of its sovereign lord, Iswar. But sadly dishonoured is

this courser of the sun-god, whose flowing tail is broken, and of whose

head but a fragment remains, though his necklace of alternate skulls and

bells proclaims him the charger of Siva.

Around the temple of the ‘great god’ (Mahadeva) are the shrines of the

_dii minores_, of whom Ganesa, the god of wisdom, takes precedence. The

shrine of this janitor of Siva is properly placed to the north,

equidistant from the nuptial hall and the chief temple. But the form of

wisdom was not spared by the Tatar iconoclast. His single tooth, on

which the poet Chand is so lavish of encomium, is broken off; his limbs

are dissevered, and he lies prostrate on his back at the base of his

pedestal, grasping, even in death, with his right hand the _laddus_, or

sweet-meat-balls, he received at the nuptial feast.

Near the dishonoured fragments of Ganesa, and on the point of losing his

equilibrium, is the divine Narada,[11.11.14] the preceptor of Parbati,

and the Orpheus of Hindu mythology. In his hands he yet holds the lyre

(_vina_), with whose heavenly sounds he has been charming the son of his

patroness; but more than one string of the instrument is wanting, and

one of the gourds which, united by a sounding board, form the _vina_, is

broken off [710].

To the south are two columns, one erect and the other prostrate, which

appear to have been either the commencement of another temple, or, what

is more probable from their excelling everything yet described, intended

to form a _toran_, having a simple architrave laid across them, which

served as a swing for the recreation of the god. (_Vide_ Plate.) Their

surface, though they have been exposed for at least one thousand years

to the atmosphere, is smooth and little injured: such is the durability

of this stone, though it is astonishing how it was worked, or how they

got instruments to shape it. There is a _bawari_, or reservoir of water,

for the use either of gods or mortals, placed in the centre of the

quadrangle, which is strewed with sculptured fragments.

We quit the enclosure of Raja Hun to visit the fountain (_kund_) of

Mahadeo, and the various other curious objects. Having passed through

the ruined gate by which we entered, we crossed the black stream, and

passing over a fine turf plot, reached the _kund_, which is a square of

sixty feet, the water (leading to which are steps) being full to the

brim, and the surface covered with the golden and silver lotus. In the

centre of the fountain is a miniature temple to the god who delights in

waters; and the dam by which it was once approached being broken, it is

now completely isolated. The entrance to the east has two slender and

well-proportioned columns, and the whole is conspicuous for simplicity

and taste.

Smaller shrines surround the _kund_, into one of which I entered, little

expecting in a comparatively humble edifice the surprise which awaited

me. The temple was a simple, unadorned hall, containing a detached piece

of sculpture, representing Narayan floating on the chaotic waters. The

god is reclining in a fit of abstraction upon his _shesh-seja_, a couch

formed of the hydra, or sea-snake, whose many heads expanded form a

canopy over that of the sleeping divinity,[11.11.15] at whose feet is

the benignant Lakshmi, the Hindu Ceres, awaiting the expiration of his

periodical repose. A group of marine monsters, half man, half fish,

support the couch in their arms, their scaly extremities gracefully

wreathed, and in the centre of them is a horse, rather too terrestrial

to be classical, with a conch-shell and other marine emblems near him.

The background to this couch rises about two feet above the reclining

figure, and is divided horizontally into two compartments, the lower

containing a group of six chimerical monsters, each nearly a foot in

height, in mutual combat, and in perfect relief. Above is a smaller

series, depicting the Avatars, or incarnations of the divinity. On the

left, Kurma, the tortoise, having quitted his shell, of which he makes

[711] a pedestal, denotes the termination of the catastrophe. Another

marine monster, half boar (Varaha), half fish, appears recovering the

Yoni, the symbol of production, from the alluvion, by his tusk. Next to

him is Narasinha, tearing in pieces a tyrannical king, with other

allegorical mysteries having no relation to the ten incarnations, but

being a mythology quite distinct, and which none of the well-informed

men around me could interpret: a certain proof of its antiquity.

[Illustration:

REMAINS OF AN ANCIENT TEMPLE AT BAROLLI.

Near the Chambal.

_To face page 1760._

]

The position of Narayan was that of repose, one hand supporting his

head, under which lay the _gada_, or mace, while in another he held the

conch-shell, which, when the god assumed the terrestrial form and led

the Yadu hosts to battle, was celebrated as Dakshinavarta, from having

its spiral involutions reversed, or to the right (_dakshin_). The fourth

arm was broken off, as were his nether limbs to near the knee. From the

_nabh_ or _naf_ (navel) the umbilical cord ascended, terminating in a

lotus, whose expanded flower served as a seat for Brahma, the

personification of the mind or spirit “moving on the waters” (Narayana)

of chaos. The beneficent and beautiful Lakshmi, whom all adore, whether

as Annapurna (the giver of food), or in her less amiable character as

the consort of the Hindu Plutus, seems to have excited a double portion

of the zealots’ ire, who have not only visited her face too roughly, but

entirely destroyed the emblems of nourishment for her universal progeny.

It would be impossible to dwell upon the minuter ornaments, which, both

for design and execution, may be pronounced unrivalled in India. The

highly imaginative mind of the artist is apparent throughout; he has

given a repose to the sleeping deity, which contrasts admirably with the

writhing of the serpent upon which he lies, whose folds, more especially

under the neck, appear almost real; a deception aided by the porphyritic

tints of the stone. From the accompaniments of mermaids, conch-shells,

sea-horses, etc., we may conclude that a more elegant mythology than

that now subsisting has been lost with the art of sculpture. The whole

is carved out of a single block of the quartz rock, which has a lustre

and polish equal to marble, and is of far greater durability.

The length of this marine couch (_seja_) is nearly eight feet, its

breadth two, and its height somewhat more than three; the figure, from

the top of his richly wrought tiara, being four feet. I felt a strong

inclination to disturb the slumbers of Narayana, and transport him to

another clime: in this there would be no sacrilege, for in his present

mutilated state he is looked upon (except as a specimen of art) as no

better than a stone.

All round the _kund_ the ground is covered with fragments of shrines

erected to [712] the inferior divinities. On one piece, which must have

belonged to a roof, were sculptured two busts of a male and a female,

unexceptionably beautiful. The headdress of the male was a helmet, quite

Grecian in design, bound with a simple and elegant fillet: in short, it

would require the labour of several artists for six months to do

anything like justice to the wonders of Barolli.

There is no chronicle to tell us for whom or by whom this temple was

constructed. The legends are unintelligible; for although Raja Hun is

the hero of this region, it is no easy task to account for his connexion

with the mythology. If we, however, connect this apparently wild

tradition with what is already said regarding his ruling at Bhainsror,

and moreover with what has been recorded in the first part of this work,

when ‛Angatsi, lord of the Huns,' was enrolled amongst the eighty-four

subordinate princes who defended Chitor against the first attempt of the

Islamite, in the eighth century, the mystery ceases. The name of Hun is

one of frequent occurrence in ancient traditions, and the early

inscription at Monghyr has already been mentioned, as likewise the still

more important admission of this being one of the Thirty-six Royal

tribes of Rajputs; and as, in the Chitor chronicle, they have actually

assigned as the proper name of the Hun prince that (Angatsi) which

designates, according to their historian Deguignes, the grand horde, we

can scarcely refuse our belief that “there were Huns” in India in those

days. But although Raja Hun may have patronized the arts, we can hardly

imagine he could have furnished any ideas to the artists, who at all

events have not produced a single Tatar feature to attest their rule in

this region. It is far more probable, if ever Grecian artists visited

these regions, that they worked upon Indian designs—an hypothesis which

may be still further supported. History informs us of the Grecian

auxiliaries sent by Seleucus to the (Puar) monarch of Ujjain

(Ozene),[11.11.16] whose descendants corresponded with Augustus; and I

have before suggested the possibility of the temple of Kumbhalmer, which

is altogether dissimilar to any remains of Hindu art, being attributable

to the same people.

We discovered two inscriptions, as well as the names of many visitors,

inscribed on the pavement and walls of the portico, bearing date seven

and eight hundred years ago; one was “the son of Jalansi, from

Dhawalnagari”; another, which is in the ornamental Nagari of the Jains,

is dated the 13th of Kartik (the month sacred to Mars), S. 981, or A.D.

925. Unfortunately it is but a fragment, containing five _slokas_ in

praise of Siddheswar, or Mahadeo, as the patron of the ascetic Jogis.

Part of a name remains; and although my old Guru will not venture to

give a translation without [713] his sibylline volume, the Vyakarana,

which was left at Udaipur, there is yet sufficient to prove it to be

merely the rhapsody of a Pandit, visiting Rori Barolli, in praise of the

‘great god’ and of the site.[11.11.17] More time and investigation than

I could afford, might make further discoveries; and it would be labour

well rewarded if we could obtain a date for this Augustan age of India.

At the same time, it is evident that the whole was not accomplished

within one man’s existence, nor could the cost be defrayed by one year’s

revenue of all Rajputana.

We may add, before we quit this spot, that there are two piles of

stones, in the quadrangle of the main temple, raised over the defunct

priests of Mahadeo, who, whether Gosains, Sannyasis, or Dadupantis,

always bury their dead.

Barolli is in the tract named Pachel, or the flat between the river

Chambal and the pass, containing twenty-four villages in the lordship of

Bhainsror, lying about three miles west, and highly improving the scene,

which would otherwise be one of perfect solitude. According to the local

tradition of some of the wild tribes, its more ancient name was

Bhadravati, the seat of the Huns; and the traces of the old city in

extensive mounds and ruins are still beheld around the more modern

Bhainsror. Tradition adds that the Charmanvati (the classic name of the

Chambal) had not then ploughed itself a channel in this adamantine bed;

but nine centuries could not have effected this operation, although it

is not far from the period when Angatsi, the Hun, served the Rana of

Chitor [714].

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Footnote 11.11.1:

_Darra_, a corruption of _Dwar_, ‘a barrier, pass, outlet, or portal’;

and _Mukund_, one of the epithets of Krishna. _Mukunddarra_ and

_Dwarkanath_ are synonymous—‘the pass and portal of the Deity.’

[_Dara_ or _darra_ is a Persian word meaning ‘pass’; akin to Skt.

_dara_, ‘cleaving, rending,’ not with _dvāra_, ‘a door.’ The pass is

situated about 140 miles E. of Udaipur city. Mukund is supposed to

mean ‘giver of liberation.’ _See_ p. 1522.]

Footnote 11.11.2:

[Atīt, meaning ‘free, destitute,’ usually applied to ascetics like the

Sannyāsi, followers of Siva (Crooke, _Tribes and Castes N.W.

Provinces_, i. 86 f.).]

Footnote 11.11.3:

[_Butea frondosa._]

Footnote 11.11.4:

[A folk-etymology, Sesodia being derived from the village Sesoda in W.

Mewār hill tract.]

Footnote 11.11.5:

[Barolli lies 3 miles N.E. of Bhainsrorgarh. The Kur tree is

_Sterculia urens_ (Watt, _Comm. Prod._ 1051): amba, the mango tree.]

Footnote 11.11.6:

[For a drawing and account of this temple see Fergusson, _Hist. Ind.

Arch._, ed. 1910, ii. 134. He ascribes it to the 9th or 10th century,

and regards this group of temples as the most perfect of their age he

had met with in this region, and, in their own peculiar style, perhaps

as beautiful as anything in India.]

Footnote 11.11.7:

[Mahishāsura, the buffalo demon.]

Footnote 11.11.8:

The _trimurti_ is represented with three faces (_murti_) though but

one head.

Footnote 11.11.9:

Nowhere else did I ever see this emblem of Time, the counterpart of

the scythe with which we furnish him, which is unknown to India.

Footnote 11.11.10:

[See Vol. I. p. 94.]

Footnote 11.11.11:

[Sailapati, ‘the mountain lord,’ the Himālaya.]

Footnote 11.11.12:

This is not the literal interpretation, but the purpose for which it

is applied. Chaori is the term always appropriated to the place of

nuptials: _singar_ means ‘ornament.’

Footnote 11.11.13:

[There is a tradition that a Hūna Rāja was present at the Swayamvara,

or choosing of the bridegroom by the bride, Durlabha Devi, sister of

the Rāja of Nādol in Mārwār, early in the eleventh century A.D. But

the rank of the family does not warrant the belief that he and other

distant Rājas were present (_BG_, i. Part i. 162 f.).]

Footnote 11.11.14:

[Nārada, one of the Prajāpati and seven great Rishis, who invented the

_vīna_ or lute, and paid a visit to Pātāla, the lower regions.]

Footnote 11.11.15:

[See a photograph of a fine panel from a temple at Deogarh, in the

Lalitpur subdivision of the Jhānsi District, United Provinces,

representing Vishnu reclining on the serpent Ananta, the symbol of

eternity, with the other gods watching from above (Smith, _HFA_,

163).]

Footnote 11.11.16:

[An account of the Indian embassy to Augustus is given by Strabo (xv.

73, with the notes of M‘Crindle, _Ancient India in Classical

Literature_, 77 ff.; O. de Beauvoir Priaulx, _Indian Travels of

Apollonius of Tyana_ (1873), 65 ff.). It was suggested by d’Anville

that the king named Porus who sent the embassy was a Rāna of Ujjain

who claimed descent from the Porus who was defeated by Alexander the

Great. But the only foundation for this guess is that the embassy

included a man from Barygaza, the modern Broach, who committed suicide

by means of fire. There is no truth in the story that Seleucus sent

Greek auxiliaries to the Pawār monarch of Ujjain, and the statements

in the text lack authority.]

Footnote 11.11.17:

This is deposited in the museum of the Royal Asiatic Society.

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Annals and Antiquities of Rajasthan, v. 3 of 3 or the Central and Western Rajput States of India · 第 11 / 16 章