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 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.

[Illustration: 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

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.

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 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 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 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 are kept

in a state of repair; but the bulk of them are in ruins, and the forms

of the greater part hardly distinguishable.

[Illustration: 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.

[Illustration: 347. Plan of Thapinya. (From Yule.) Scale 100 ft. to 1

in.]

Internally, the building is extremely solid, being intersected only 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.

[Illustration: 348. Section of Thapinya. (From Yule.) Scale 50 ft. to 1

in.]

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.

[Illustration: 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 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 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 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.

[Illustration: 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 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.

[Illustration: 351. Shoëmadu Pagoda, Pegu. (From Col. Symes’ ‘Embassy to

Ava.’)]

[Illustration: 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. 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 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.

[Illustration: 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 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

[Illustration: 354. Circular Pagoda at Mengûn. (From a Photograph.)]

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 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.

[Illustration: 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 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.

[Illustration: 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 preceding 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.

[Illustration: 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

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.

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 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.

* * * * *

[Illustration: 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 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.

[Illustration: 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

[Illustration: 360. The Great Tower of the Pagoda Wat-ching at Bangkok.

(From Mouhot.)]

like vulgarity, when exercised by a people in so low a stage of

civilization as the modern Siamese.

[Illustration: 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 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.

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 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.

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.

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 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.

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 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 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

[Illustration: 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.]

[Illustration: 363. Elevation and Section of Temple of Boro Buddor.

(From an unpublished Plate intended for Sir Stamford Raffles’ ‘History

of Java.’)]

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).

[Illustration: 364. Section of one of the smaller Domes at Boro Buddor.]

[Illustration: 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 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 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 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.

[Illustration: 366. View of Central Entrance and Stairs at Boro Buddor.

(From a Lithographic Plate.)]

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, externally, 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 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.

[Illustration: 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] 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 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

[Illustration: 368. Three-storeyed Terraced Temple at Panataram. (From a

Photograph.)]

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 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.

[Illustration: 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 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, 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

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, 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. 1150-1450) 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.

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. 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 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 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.

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

[Illustration: 370. Plan of Temple of Nakhon Wat. (From a Survey by Mr.

J. Thomson.) Scale 155 ft. to 1 in.]

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

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.

[Illustration: 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

[Illustration: 372. Diagram Section of Corridor, Nakhon Wat.]

[Illustration: 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

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.

[Illustration: 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 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 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.

[Illustration: 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

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.

[Illustration: 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 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.

[Illustration: 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 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 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 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.

[Illustration: 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. 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 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 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 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.