[Illustration: A view of a cave, with large statues and pillars and two
people standing inside.]
One of the earliest monuments of India that attracted the notice of
Europeans was the excavation of Elephanta, situated in a beautiful
island of the same name, called by the natives Goripura, or _Mountain
City_. This island is in the bay of Bombay, seven miles from Bombay
castle; it is about six miles in circumference, and composed of two long
hills with a narrow valley between them.
The island has taken its familiar name from a colossal statue of an
elephant, cut out of a detached mass of blackish rock unconnected with
any stratum below. This figure has had another on its back, which the
old travellers call a young elephant, but which, as far as we can judge
from the drawing of what remains of it, has much more probably been a
tiger. The head and neck of this elephant dropped off about 1814, owing
to a large fissure that ran up through its back. The length of this
colossal figure, from the forehead to the root of the tail, was 13 feet
2 inches; and the height at the head 7 feet 4 inches. The remains of
this colossus stand about 250 yards to the right of the usual
landing-place, which is towards the southern part of the island.
After proceeding up the valley till the two mountains unite, we come to
a narrow path, after ascending which there is a beautiful prospect of
the northern part of the island, and the opposite shores of Salsette.
“Advancing forward and keeping to the left along the bend of the hill,
we gradually mount to an open space, and come suddenly on the grand
entrance of a magnificent temple, whose huge massy columns seem to give
support to the whole mountain which rises above it.
“The entrance into this temple, which is entirely hewn out of a stone
resembling porphyry, is by a spacious front supported by two massy
pillars and two pilasters forming three openings, under a thick and
steep rock overhung by brushwood and wild shrubs. The long ranges of
columns that appear closing in perspective on every side; the flat roof
of solid rock that seems to be prevented from falling only by the massy
pillars, whose capitals are pressed down and flattened as if by the
superincumbent weight; the darkness that obscures the interior of the
temple, which is dimly lighted only by the entrances; and the gloomy
appearance of the gigantic stone figures ranged along the wall, and
hewn, like the whole temple, out of the living rock,--joined to the
strange uncertainty that hangs over the history of this place,--carry
the mind back to distant periods, and impress it with that kind of
uncertain and religious awe with which the grander works of ages of
darkness are generally contemplated.
“The whole excavation consists of three principal parts: the great
temple itself, which is in the centre, and two smaller chapels, one on
each side of the great temple. These two chapels do not come forward
into a straight line with the front of the chief temple, are not
perceived on approaching the temple, and are considerably in recess,
being approached by two narrow passes in the hill, one on each side of
the grand entrance, but at some distance from it. After advancing to
some distance up these confined passes, we find each of them conduct to
another front of the grand excavation, exactly like the principal front
which is first seen; all the three fronts being hollowed out of the
solid rock, and each consisting of two huge pillars with two pilasters.
The two side fronts are precisely opposite to each other on the east and
west, the grand entrance facing the north. The two wings of the temple
are at the upper end of these passages, and are close by the grand
excavation, but have no covered passage to connect them with it.[1]”
From the northern entrance to the extremity of this cave is about 130½
feet, and from the eastern to the western side 133. Twenty-six pillars,
of which eight are broken, and sixteen pilasters, support the roof.
Neither the floor nor the roof is in the same plane, and consequently
the height varies, being in some parts 17½, in others 15 feet. Two rows
of pillars run parallel to one another from the northern entrance and at
right angles to it, to the extremity of the cave; and the pilasters, one
of which stands on each side of the two front pillars, are followed by
other pilasters and pillars also, forming on each side of the two rows
already described, another row, running parallel to them up to the
southern extremity of the cave. The pillars on the eastern and western
front, which are like those on the northern side, are also continued
across the temple from east to west. Thus the ranges of pillars form a
number of parallel lines intersecting one another at right angles--the
pillars of the central parts being considered as common to the two sets
of intersecting lines. The pillars vary both in their size and
decorations, though the difference is not sufficient to strike the eye
at first.
All the walls are covered with reliefs (which are yet very little known
for want of complete drawings), but are described as being in good
proportion and producing rather a pleasing effect than the contrary. All
the sculptures refer to the Indian mythology, and the temple seems to
have been the special property of the god Siva, since he appears very
frequently with his usual attributes. In one place we see him as half
man and half woman, with one breast and four hands, in one of which he
holds the snake.
In Mr. Daniell’s Views in India (vol. v. pl. 7) we have a beautiful
drawing of the northern front of the Elephanta cave, with its
overhanging trees and shrubs. His eighth plate is that which we have
above given. “The view is taken near the centre of the temple looking
westward. The space between four of the pillars is formed into a small
temple, sacred to Mahadiva (Siva), and has an entrance on each side,
guarded by colossal figures.” “On the walls are several groups of
figures in basso-relievo, evidently relating to the Hindoo mythology;
many of them are of colossal dimensions and well executed. To the east
and west are small apartments, decorated also in the same manner. This
excavation is considerably elevated above the sea; the floor,
nevertheless, is generally covered with water during the monsoon season;
the rain being then driven in by the wind; a circumstance to which
possibly its present state of decay is chiefly owing.”
Larger excavations of this kind are found in the neighbouring island of
Salsette. But these are far surpassed by the temples of Ellora, which
are in the province of Hyderabad, about twenty miles north-west from
Aurungabad, the capital, and 239 east of Bombay. It may be considered as
near the centre of India. Here we have a granite mountain, which is of
an amphitheatre form, completely chiselled out from top to bottom, and
filled with innumerable temples; the god Siva alone having, it is said,
about twenty appropriated to himself. To describe the numerous galleries
and rows of pillars which support various chambers lying one above
another, the steps, porticos, and bridges of rock over canals, also hewn
out of the solid rock, would be impossible; and we recommend those who
have the opportunity to look at Daniell’s designs, which will serve to
give some idea of this wonderful place.
The rock-cut temples of India are generally supposed to be of higher
antiquity than pagodas[2] or temples, built on the surface of the earth.
⁂ Abridged from ‘British Museum--Egyptian Antiquities.’
-----
Footnote 1:
Mr. W. Erskine, in the Bombay Literary Transactions.
Footnote 2:
The word pagoda is a corruption of _Bhaga-rati_, “holy house,” one of
the several names by which the Hindoo temples are known.
---------------------
THE WEATHER.--No. 3.
Ben Jonson, in his play of ‘Every Man out of his Humour,’ has a
character of which some examples may still be found, even in our own
day. It is that of a credulous man, who relies implicitly on the
_Weather Prophecies_ of the almanacs of his time;--and, his barns being
full, resolves not to sow his ground, because the almanacs foretel
“Rotten weather and unseasoned hours.”
This species of credulity is probably not very often now carried as far
as in the instance of _Sordido_, the dupe of the play;--but still there
are some amongst us who will not cut their grass till they have seen
what “Master Moore” says about the weather. In nine cases out of ten
these superstitious confiders in an almost worn-out imposture, have in
the end to exclaim with the miser of the old dramatist, “Tut, these
star-monger knaves, who would trust ’em? One says, _dark and rainy_,
when ’tis as clear as crystal; another says, _tempestuous blasts and
storms_, and ’twas as calm as a milk-bowl. Here be sweet rascals for a
man to credit his whole fortunes with[3]!”
Now, let us see what the almanac oracle of the present time--“Francis
Moore, Physician”--says about the weather, for June, 1832. He says, in
one of his narrow columns which runs parallel with the calendar of the
present month, “Variable, with thunder showers flying about. Some
showers at intervals, attended with electrical _phenomena_, EVEN TO THE
END.” Be it remembered that this prophecy is for _all parts_ of the
United Kingdom--for England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland;--for the
hilly districts and for the plains,--for the coasts and for the inland
countries. A correspondent, who writes to us about the weather, very
sensibly says, “Does it not often happen that they have many rainy days
successively at Manchester, whilst not a drop falls at Leeds? How then
can any man’s tables about the moon, or general rules for the weather,
or the prophecies of almanacs, answer for both the hilly and level
districts? The Cheshire men say that their rugged-topt hills knock out
the bottoms of the clouds, and leave them as leaky as a sieve while
passing over Manchester.” So much for the _universal_ application of
these astrological predictions of the weather.
But let us further examine this prophecy of Moore’s Almanac for the
present month of June. There are some who impudently defend the
publication of such predictions, as well as the predictions of political
events which the same almanac contains;--and they say that the weather
prophecies are only intended to give the average results of many years
of actual observation, which make more impression upon the farmer’s mind
in this form than if he were to refer himself to meteorological tables
of the barometer, of the thermometer, of the hygrometer, and of the
rain-gauge. Now, here is a prediction calculated to frighten the
credulous agriculturist into a belief that the whole of June, throughout
the country, will be unfavourable to hay-making:--“Showers at intervals,
attended with _electrical phenomena_, EVEN TO THE END.” Electrical
phenomena! This is a phrase as terrific as the obscurities of the
ancient oracles. A phenomenon, as most of our readers know, is an
appearance--anything made manifest to us in any way; and as electricity
is doubtless one of the most important agents in producing particular
states of the weather, rain and sunshine, wind and calm, heat and cold,
may be equally _electrical phenomena_. But “showers at intervals,
attended with electrical phenomena,” is a phrase naturally calculated to
frighten the ignorant into a belief that the weather of June, “even unto
the end,” will be rainy, attended with heavy storms; the most
unfavourable state, because producing the greatest uncertainty and
expense in the work of getting in the hay-harvest. This prediction was
probably manufactured a year ago: it was printed in October last; and so
far from giving a notion of what is the _average_ weather for June--the
only matter upon which the prediction monger could possess the slightest
information--he prophesies directly in the teeth of the best
meteorological records; for it is a well-known fact that in June the
average number of days on which rain falls is under twelve--the lowest
number of any month in the year. June, therefore, is in general the most
favourable month for hay-making, whatever exceptions there may be in
particular years; of which “Francis Moore” could know no more beforehand
than the most ignorant peasant whom he deludes.
But let us look a little further at the prophecies of the
Weather-Almanac. June being lost to the hay-farmer by the fear of “rain
and electrical phenomena,” July is to make him happy “with fair and hot
weather.” The hay-harvest therefore will be, if possible, deferred by
the dupes onward to July. Now in July a continuance of rainy weather
commonly happens about the middle of the month; and this periodical
tendency to rain has given rise to the popular tradition of St. Swithin.
Of course there are exceptions to this tendency; but in this, as in most
cases, the popular error has some little foundation in truth. The
chances, therefore, are that the farmer who, for fear of “electrical
phenomena,” has let June pass over without cutting his grass, will find
a very short interval between the beginning of July and the periodical
rains of the middle of that month; and thus a great deal of national
property may be destroyed, and the credulous individual’s capital
expended in vain, because he has chosen to believe in a musty cheat, of
which even the propagators of the deception are ashamed.
We have endeavoured to show in a former Number (and we shall continue
the subject in a future paper), that by the careful use of good
instruments, some few facts may be established as guides in operations
dependent upon the weather. In the place of these the observations of
shepherds, fishermen, and others who have attended to the _passing_ and
_local_ signs of winds, and clouds, and tints of the sky, and other
omens, are not to be despised. These men are practical philosophers, who
may fairly claim some accurate knowledge of the weather from day to day.
They are much too sensible and honest to pretend to any power of
predicting if it will be fair or foul weather, for a year, or a month,
or even a week beforehand. Such a man has been described by the poet:--
⸻“In his shepherd’s calling he was prompt,
And watchful more than ordinary men.
Hence had he learned the meaning of all winds,
Of blasts of every tone; and, oftentimes,
When others heeded not, he heard the South
Make subterraneous music, like the noise
Of bagpipers on distant Highland hills.”
The late Sir Humphrey Davy, one of the most successful modern explorers
of the secrets of nature, was not above attending to, and explaining
the, “weather-omens” which are derived from popular observation. In his
‘Salmonia’ he has the following dialogue between Halieus (a fly-fisher),
Poietes (a poet), Physicus (a man of science), and Ornither (a
sportsman):--
“_Poiet_. I hope we shall have another good day to-morrow, for the
clouds are red in the west.
“_Phys_. I have no doubt of it, for the red has a tint of purple.
“_Hal_. Do you know why this tint portends fine weather?
“_Phys_. The air, when dry, I believe, refracts more red, or heat-making
rays; and as dry air is not perfectly transparent, they are again
reflected in the horizon. I have generally observed a coppery or yellow
sun-set to foretel rain; but, as an indication of wet weather
approaching, nothing is more certain than a halo round the moon, which
is produced by the precipitated water; and the larger the circle, the
nearer the clouds, and consequently the more ready to fall.
“_Hal_. I have often observed that the old proverb is correct--
‘A rainbow in the morning is the shepherd’s warning;
A rainbow at night is the shepherd’s delight.’
Can you explain this omen?
“_Phys_. A rainbow can only occur when the clouds containing, or
depositing, the rain are opposite the sun,--and in the evening the
rainbow is in the east, and in the morning in the west; and as our heavy
rains, in this climate, are usually brought by the westerly wind, a
rainbow in the west indicates that the bad weather is on the road, by
the wind, to us; whereas the rainbow in the east proves that the rain in
these clouds is passing from us.
“_Poiet_. I have often observed, that when the swallows fly high fine
weather is to be expected or continued; but when they fly low, and close
to the ground, rain is almost surely approaching. Can you account for
this?
“_Hal_. Swallows follow the flies and gnats, and flies and gnats usually
delight in warm strata of air; and as warm air is lighter, and usually
moister, than cold air, when the warm strata of air are high, there is
less chance of moisture being thrown down from them by the mixture with
cold air; but when the warm and moist air is close to the surface, it is
almost certain that, as the cold air flows down into it, a deposition of
water will take place.
“_Poiet_. I have often seen sea-gulls assemble on the land, and have
almost always observed that very stormy and rainy weather was
approaching. I conclude that these animals, sensible of a current of air
approaching from the ocean, retire to the land to shelter themselves
from the storm.
“_Orn_. No such thing. The storm is their element, and the little petrel
enjoys the heaviest gale; because, living on the smaller sea insects, he
is sure to find his food in the spray of a heavy wave, and you may see
him flitting above the edge of the highest surge. I believe that the
reason of this migration of sea-gulls, and other sea birds, to the land,
is their security of finding food; and they may be observed, at this
time, feeding greedily on the earth-worms and larvæ, driven out of the
ground by severe floods; and the fish, on which they prey in fine
weather in the sea, leave the surface, and go deeper in storms. The
search after food, as we have agreed on a former occasion, is the
principal cause why animals change their places. The different tribes of
the wading birds always migrate when rain is about to take place; and I
remember once, in Italy, having been long waiting, in the end of March,
for the arrival of the double snipe in the Campagna of Rome, a great
flight appeared on the 3d of April, and the day after heavy rain set in,
which greatly interfered with my sport. The vulture, upon the same
principle, follows armies; and I have no doubt that the augury of the
ancients was a good deal founded upon the observation of the instincts
of birds. There are many superstitions of the vulgar owing to the same
source. For anglers, in spring, it is always unlucky to see single
magpies,--but _two_ may be always regarded as a favourable omen; and the
reason is, that in cold and stormy weather one magpie alone leaves the
nest in search of food, the other remaining sitting upon the eggs or the
young ones; but when two go out together it is only when the weather is
warm and mild, and favourable for fishing.
“_Poiet_. The singular connections of causes and effects to which you
have just referred, makes superstition less to be wondered at,
particularly amongst the vulgar; and when two facts, naturally
unconnected, have been accidentally coincident, it is not singular that
this coincidence should have been observed and registered, and that
omens of the most absurd kind should be trusted in. In the west of
England, half a century ago, a particular hollow noise on the sea coast
was referred to a spirit or goblin, called Bucca, and was supposed to
foretel a shipwreck; the philosopher knows that sound travels much
faster than currents in the air--and the sound always foretold the
approach of a very heavy storm, which seldom takes place on that wild
and rocky coast without a shipwreck on some part of its extensive
shores, surrounded by the Atlantic.”
We may not improperly conclude this paper with some lines which have
been transmitted to us, as a production of the late Dr. Jenner, the
discoverer of vaccination. We, of course, do not recommend an implicit
reliance upon such _natural_ prophecies of the weather of the coming
day. But, at any rate, whatever connected with this subject tends to
open a man’s own eyes,--whatever excites in him the habit of observation
and comparison,--is a benefit; whilst a reliance, on the contrary, on
the unprincipled quackeries of the more popular almanacs which still
disgrace our country, as well as every other prostration of the
understanding before the shrine of ignorance, is the most deceptive of
all states of the human mind, and the most likely to engender a train of
other delusions which shut up the sources of real knowledge, and degrade
the whole moral as well as intellectual character.