PRAMBANAN
_Queen Gertrude...._
..., all that lives must die,
Passing through nature to eternity.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, _Hamlet, Prince of Denmark_, I., ii.
The vast plain of Prambanan, which extends southward from the foot of
the Merapi, one of Java’s most active volcanoes,[35] is, or rather was,
studded with Sivaïte and Buddhist temples. Called, in the later days
of ignorance regarding their signification, after some outstanding
feature (Sewu, Loomboong, Asu), after gods, demi-gods and heroes of
romance (as on the Diëng), after the villages near which they were found
(Kalasan or Kali Bening), or after their general position, a good many
might share the appellation Prambanan. In speaking of _the_ Prambanan
temples, however, the group is meant which lies beside the main road
between Surakarta and Jogjakarta, where the two residencies meet, but
still within the boundaries of the latter. Excepting the Boro Budoor
and Mendoot, it comprises the finest and most famous monuments of
Central Java, which from olden times have been held in great veneration
by the population, even in their neglected condition, when reduced to
little more than heaps of overgrown debris, lairs of wild animals. Freed
from their luxurious vegetation and excavated, architectural remains
of the first order came to light with sculptured ornament nowhere
else surpassed in richness of detail and correctness of execution.
Surrounded by ruins of a mainly Buddhist character, these buildings
were consecrated to the Hindu Trinity with Siva leading the Trimoorti
as Bhatara Guru, Master and Teacher of the World. A date recently
discovered, 886 Saka (A.D. 964), or, according to another reading,
996 Saka (A.D. 1074), points to the period when Sivaïsm in Java had
already become strongly impregnated with Buddhism, a circumstance
fully borne out by the external decoration.
[Illustration: IV. EAST FRONT OF THE SIVA (LORO JONGGRANG) TEMPLE OF THE
PRAMBANAN GROUP IN 1895
(Cephas Sr.)]
Among the natives, the Prambanan ruins go by the name of _chandi_
Loro[36] Jonggrang because of the legend connected with their origin.
Once upon a time Prambanan was ruled by a giant-king, Ratu Boko,
possessed of an only daughter, Princess Jonggrang, and an adopted son,
Raden Gupolo, whose father had been killed by command of the King of
Pengging. Having sworn revenge, Raden Gupolo feigned love for the
beautiful daughter of that monarch and asked Ratu Boko to assist him
in making her his wife. Ambassadors were despatched with instructions
to negotiate the marriage. His Majesty of Pengging received them in
a friendly manner and entertained them at his Court but, not wanting
Raden Gupolo for a son-in-law, he sent secret agents in all directions
to seek and bind to his service a hero with power to resist and subdue
the giants, Ratu Boko’s subjects, of whom he was in mortal fear. One
of those emissaries, searching the slopes of the Soombing, met with
the recluse Damar Moyo of the children of Sumendi Petoong, the chief
of the _legèn_-drawers.[37] Damar Moyo’s wife had blessed him with two
sons, Bondowoso, a tall and strong fellow, and Bambang Kandilaras,
less muscular but more favoured in outward appearance and of a gentler
disposition, whom he recommended as just the man needed for the rescue
of the Princess of Pengging and ready for the task, provided her royal
father would consent, in consideration of the defeat of the giants,
to give his daughter to the young man with half his kingdom as dowry
and the other half to follow after his death--which conditions prove
that even in those remote days the saintly did not despise worldly
advantage. The King of Pengging consented and Bambang Kandilaras marched
against Prambanan, but no weapon could harm Ratu Boko, who roared so
dreadfully that the sound and his breath combined were enough to knock
any human foe down at a distance too far to distinguish a man from
a woman or a giant from a _waringin_-tree. Bambang Kandilaras fled,
reporting at Damar Moyo’s cave, and was commanded to try once more with
the assistance of his brother Bondowoso. They accomplished nothing.
Bambang Kandilaras ran away even before the battle commenced, to hide
himself in a ravine where the troops of Prambanan could not follow
him, and Bondowoso, blown off his legs by a puff from Ratu Boko’s
formidable lungs, sought safety in precipitate retreat to the mountain
Soombing. Then Damar Moyo taught him a magical word which, pronounced
twice, would make him big and heavy as an elephant, and give him the
strength of a thousand of those animals. Thus armed, Bondowoso returned
to Prambanan, where he killed half of Ratu Boko’s warriors in their
sleep, while the other half, waking up, concentrated backward, with
the enemy in hot pursuit, to tell their king what had happened. Nobody
shall stir, said he; I myself alone will settle this little business.
Meeting Bondowoso near the village Tangkisan,[38] he began to roar as
loud and fume as hard as he could but, to his astonishment, his breath
lacked the accustomed power and so he had to fight for his life hand to
hand. It was a terrible fight: houses and gardens were trampled down,
forests rooted up and mountains kicked over, while the perspiration
dripping from the bodies of the enraged combatants formed a large pool,
the Telaga Powiniyan.[39] To end the struggle, Bondowoso, in a supreme
effort, seized Ratu Boko round the middle and threw him into that pool,
where he sank and, drowning, made the earth tremble with a last roar
of anger and distress.[40] Raden Gupolo, hearing the noise, hastened
to his assistance with a few drops of the water of life in a cup, an
elixir prepared by Mboq Loro Jonggrang,--only a few drops, but enough to
resuscitate the dead giant-king if put to his lips. Bambang Kandilaras,
however, drew his bow and, from the place where he had watched the
fight, shot the cup out of the hand of Raden Gupolo, who thereupon
attacked Bondowoso. Bambang Kandilaras let more arrows fly at the
giant-warriors of Prambanan, who now rushed up to avenge their king’s
death. In the general _mêlée_ Bondowoso killed also Raden Gupolo and cut
off his head, which he threw away in an easterly direction, changing it
into a mountain, the Gunoong Gampeng; but his brains and heart he threw
away in a southwesterly direction, changing them into another mountain,
the Gunoong Woongkal. Thereupon he defeated the remaining half of the
army of Prambanan and repaired to Pengging, claiming the reward for
his brother. The king of that country, glad to be rid of the giants,
was as good as his word, wedded his beautiful daughter to Bambang
Kandilaras and appointed Bondowoso his viceroy in Prambanan, with the
rank and title of _bupati_. Taking up his abode in the palace of the
late Raden Gupolo, Bondowoso happened to see Mboq Loro Jonggrang, who
continued living in the _kraton_ of Ratu Boko, and fell in love with
her. He asked her hand in marriage and she, abhorring the man who had
killed her father, and one so unprepossessing in countenance too, but
afraid to provoke his displeasure by a blank refusal, answered that she
was willing to become his wife on condition of his providing a suitable
_sasrahan_ or wedding-present, nothing more nor less than six deep wells
in six buildings, the like of which no mortal eye had ever seen, with
a thousand statues of the former kings of Prambanan and their divine
ancestors, the gods in heaven, all to be dug and built and carved in one
night. Bondowoso called in the help of his father, the recluse Damar
Moyo, of the King of Pengging and of his brother Bambang Kandilaras, all
three of whom responded, going to Prambanan and uniting in prayer on the
day before the night agreed upon by the spirits of the lower regions,
who had been commandeered for the task by the saint of the mountain
Soombing. The evening fell and as soon as darkness enveloped the earth
a weird sound was heard of invisible hands busy laying foundations,
erecting walls and sculpturing statuary. By half past three o’clock the
six wells were dug, the six buildings completed and nine hundred and
ninety-nine statues standing in their places. But Mboq Loro Jonggrang,
roused from her slumbers by the hammering and chiselling, and suspecting
what was going on, ordered her handmaidens out to stamp the _padi_[41]
and to strew the ground, where the noise was loudest, with flowers and
to sprinkle perfume. The spirits of the lower regions cannot bear the
odour of flowers and perfumes, as everybody knows; so they had to desist
and deserted their almost finished work in precipitate flight, to the
consternation of Bondowoso, who pronounced this curse: Since the girls
of Prambanan take pleasure in fooling a faithful suitor, may the gods
grant that they shall have to wait long before they become brides![42]
Having said this, yet hoping against hope, he called on his lady, who
asked tauntingly whether the honour of his visit meant the announcement
that the task imposed upon him by way of testing his love, had been
completed. This filled the measure and he answered: No, it is not and
you shall complete it yourself. The threat was immediately realised:
Loro Jonggrang changed into a statue of stone, the thousandth, which
terminated the labour of the spirits and is still to be seen in a niche
on the north side of the principal edifice.
The reader will recognise in this legend the hoary eastern material of
many others current also in western lands. It pervades the legendary
lore connected with the plain of Prambanan in widest sense, and one of
its many variations, to be recorded farther on, applies specially to the
Buddhist _chandi_ Sewu or “thousand temples”, only a little distance
from the Loro Jonggrang group;[43] in fact, originally adapted to
account for the many ruins scattered over a vast area in that region,
it has taken separate forms to meet the requirements of separate
localities. Apart from tradition, we owe the oldest extant description
of the Prambanan antiquities to the East India Company’s servant Lons at
Samarang, who wrote in 1733. The Governor-General van Imhoff referred to
them in 1746 and Raffles, his successor during the British Interregnum,
not satisfied with writing and talking alone, commissioned Cornelius
with Wardenaar to survey them and make plans for reconstruction. After
1816 things returned to the accustomed neglect: A short stay in the
plain of Prambanan, says an authority already quoted,[44] is sufficient
to note that thousands of valuable hewn and sculptured stones have been
and still are used for all sorts of purposes ...; from time immemorial,
great quantities of stone have been (and still are) taken from
Prambanan by his Highness the Sooltan of Jogjakarta, generally once or
twice a year ...; this happens, if I am well informed, in compliance
with a written demand, fiated by the local authorities. The foundation,
in 1885, of the Archaeological Society of Jogjakarta, which undertook
the excavation of the parts of the Loro Jonggrang group covered with
debris and vegetation, and the clearing of the whole, did little to
ameliorate the situation with respect to the carrying away from the
Prambanan temples, speaking collectively, of stones for the building of
houses, factories, etc., and of ornament for the decoration of private
grounds and gardens. Though bills were posted all over the ruins,
including Doorga’s, alias Loro Jonggrang’s sanctum, prohibiting, by
order of that Society, the salving of gods and goddesses with _boreh_
and the defacing of the walls with inscriptions, its members themselves
dragged statues away to fill a so-called museum of their contrivance
at the provincial capital, dislocating things of beauty, ranging the
_disjecta membra_ on scaffoldings in a shed as crockery on the shelves
of a cupboard. The monuments of Prambanan being primarily mausolea,
their first concern was to dig for the _saptaratna_, the seven treasures
buried with the ashes of the dead under the images of the deities
hallowing those perishable remains. The plunder consisted in urns
containing, besides the ashes, coins, rubies and other precious stones,
pieces of gold- and silver-leaf with cut figures (serpents, tortoises,
flowers), strips of gold-foil inscribed with ancient characters,
fragments of copper and glass, etc. The mortuary pits easiest to rifle,
had already been emptied before the semi-official spoilers turned their
attention to them. This chapter is not the most glorious in the history
of the Archaeological Society of Jogjakarta which, on the other hand,
started a work too long neglected by the Dutch Government, even after
Raffles’ vigorous initial effort. Incidentally it promoted the schemes
of the superficial yet very ambitious, pushing to the front on the
strength of what should have been put to the credit of more capable but,
to their detriment, more modest labourers in the archaeological field:
It is not always the most deserving horses that get the oats, says a
Dutch proverb.
[Illustration: VI. SIVA (LORO JONGGRANG) TEMPLE OF THE PRAMBANAN GROUP
IN 1901
(Cephas Sr.)]
The Sivaïte character of the temples of Prambanan would be sufficiently
indicated, if there were no other proofs, by the sepulchral cavities
they inclose and which define them as the monuments of a graveyard
consecrated to the memory of the great and mighty of Hindu Mataram, who
worshipped Siva as Mahadeva, the Supreme God, Paramesvara, the Maker,
the Maintainer, the Marrer to make again. Sepulchral pits or wells are,
indeed, the Sivaïte hall-mark in the architecture of Java and here, at
Prambanan, we find, in so far as preserved, the finest of the edifices
raised to encompass and revet such pits, temple-tombs built for the
glorification of the Creator in creative consciousness, highest boon
granted to humanity, a glimmering of his All-Soul which, leaving
the dust to return to dust, aspires to union with the Uncreated. A
central group of eight shrines, once surrounded by numberless smaller
ones, witnesses, in soberness of well-balanced outline, in precision of
detail, to the exquisite art of those Hindu-Javanese master-builders
who, like the architects of our old cathedrals, were unconcerned as to
the opinion of man, but had the adoration of the godhead in mind and
made the whole world partake of the divine blessing which quickened
heart and hand, whether then descending from Siva’s nature as the
essence of the Trimoorti, or from the sublime truth symbolised in the
Christian Holy Trinity. The marvels of design and execution still
standing at Prambanan in their dilapidated state, on a terrace excavated
in 1893-4, were arranged, with the smaller ones now altogether gone, in
a square whose sides faced the cardinal points. The material used in
their construction was a kind of trachyte which, originally yellowish
and hard to chisel into shape, has assumed a dark gray colour and by the
richness of the sculptured ornament gives an impression as if easily
moulded like wax. The three western temples, of which the one in the
middle, consecrated to Siva or, according to the natives, the _chandi_
Loro Jonggrang proper, is the largest, correspond each with a smaller
structure to the east; still smaller _chandis_ bound the space between
the two rows to the north and south. The buildings dedicated to the
Trimoorti, set squarely with a square projection on each side, rest on
basements of the same polygonous conformation, so much in favour with
the architects of that period; the inner rooms are on an elevated level
because of their position over the vault-like compartments saved out in
the substructures, and can be reached by staircases, once provided with
porches, leading to the storeyed galleries. Vestiges of 157 diminutive
_chandis_ outside the rampart which encircled the central group,
testify to the former existence of many and many more, shut in by a
second and a third demolished wall. A closer inspection of the ruins,
revealing beauties not yet departed, leads to an apprehension of what
has been irrevocably lost. These temples of the three gods who are but
one, always reminded me in their pathetic desolation of the _capellas
imparfeitas_ of Santa Maria da Victoria; what is incomplete, however,
unfinished at Batalha, has run to decay at Prambanan--there the budding
promise and arrested blossoming of an artistic idea, here the scattered
petals of the full-blown flower rudely broken off its stem.
[Illustration: VII. PRAMBANAN RELIEFS
(C. Nieuwenhuis.)]
Siva is the keynote of the Prambanan group, Siva, the Jagad, the Bhatara
Guru, according to his prevalent title in the island. In the temple
which bears his name, he appeared as the leader in the exterior chapel
looking south; his wife, Doorga, looks north; their first-born, Ganesa,
looks west. The latter, sitting on his lotus cushion, is represented as
the Ekadanta, the elephant deprived of one of his tusks when fighting
Parashu Rama; a third eye in his forehead betokens his keenness of
sight; he wears in his crown the emblematic skull and crescent of his
father; one of his left hands brandishes his father’s battle-axe; one
of his right hands holds the string of beads suggesting prayer; his
father’s _upawita_, the hooded snake, is strung round his left shoulder
and breast. Doorga, his mother, born from the flames which proceeded
from the mouths of the gods, stands on the steer she killed when the
terrific animal had stormed Indra’s heaven and humiliated the immortals;
her eight hands[45] wield the weapons and other gifts bestowed upon her
by the deities at their delivery: Vishnu’s discus, Surya’s arrows, etc.
etc., while her nethermost right hand seizes the enemy’s tail and her
nethermost left hand the shaggy locks of the demon Maheso, who tries to
escape with the monster’s life. This magnificent piece of sculpture,
highly dramatic and yet within the limits of plastic art, the unknown
maker having instinctively obeyed the rules formulated in Lessing’s
_Laokoon_, some thousand years after his labours were ended, is the
petrified Lady Jonggrang, victim of Bondowoso’s revengeful love. It
does not matter to the native that Siva has always claimed her as his
consort, if not under the name of Doorga then under that of Kali or Uma,
ever since she, Parvati, the Mother of Nature, divided herself into
three female entities to marry her three sons, who are none but he who
sits enthroned as Mahadeva in the inner chamber, looking east, with his
less placid personifications, the _dvarapalas_ (doorkeepers) Nandisvara
and Mahakala, the wielders of trident and cudgel, guarding the entrance,
supported by demi-gods and heroes. The colossal statue of their heavenly
lord, broken into pieces by the falling roof, has been restored and
replaced on its _padmasana_ (lotus cushion). In this shape the god
wears the _makuta_ (crown) with skull and crescent, has a third eye in
his forehead and a cobra strung round his left shoulder and breast;
his body, decked with a tiger’s skin, rests against the _prabha_, his
aureole; one of his left hands holds his fly-flap, one of his right
hands his string of beads; of his trident only the stick remains.
Siva, the one of dreadful charm, is everywhere, either personified or
in his attributes: he dominates the external decoration of the Vishnu
and the Brahma temples too, in the latter case as _guru_, even to
the exclusion of all other gods; the middle _chandi_ of the eastern
row, facing his principal shrine, has his _vahana_, the bull; the one
to the north his smaller image, while in the third, to the south,
wholly demolished, no statuary can be traced. The inner chambers of
the subordinate buildings show more plainly than that of Siva, which
is adorned with flowery ornament, that the Sivaïte style concentrated
ornamentation rather on the exterior than on the interior. The four
statues of Brahma, the master of the four crowned countenances, who
lies shattered among the debris of his temple, and the four statues
of Vishnu in his (a large one with _makuta_, _prabha_, _chakra_ and
_sanka_, and three smaller ones, representing him in his fourth and
fifth _avatar_ and in his married state with his _sakti_ Lakshmi in
miniature on his left arm), are chastely conceived in the chaste
surroundings of their chapels. In addition to the sorely damaged
_Ramayana_ reliefs, presently to be spoken of, they dwell, however
simple the interior arrangement of their cells may be, among richly
carved images of their peers and followers stationed outside: Vishnu
among his own less famous _avatars_ and supposed Bodhisatvas between
female figures; Brahma, as already remarked, among personifications of
the ubiquitous Siva in his quality of teacher, accompanied by bearded
men of holiness. Siva’s _nandi_, a beautifully moulded humped bull,
emblem of divine virility, watches his master’s abode, attentive to
the word of command,--watches day and night as symbolised by Surya,
the beaming sun, carrying the flowers of life when rising behind her
seven horses, and by Chandra, the three-eyed moon, drawn by ten horses,
waving a banner and also presenting a flower, but one wrapped in a
cloud. The _chandis_ of the eastern row, fortunately not yet despoiled
of these striking specimens of Sivaïte sculpture, the statue of Siva
opposite the Vishnu temple and enough to enable one to recognise that
they too had once a band of ornament in high and low relief, emphasise
even in the ruinous condition of their substructures, polygonous like
those of the larger temples but on square foundations, the mystery
attaching to the fascination exercised by the main building they
supplement, and whose decoration, strictly Sivaïtic on the inside
while partaking of the Buddhistic on the outside, has racked many
brains for an explanation. The bo-trees and prayer-bells, profusely
employed in its external embellishment, together with figures agreeable
to the Bodhisatva theory, have led some to advance the opinion that
it is a purely Buddhist creation, though perhaps tinged with Sivaïte
notions. They were met with the objection that there is no sign of
a dagob as distinguishing Buddhist feature; that the riddle of the
resemblance between the statuary on the outside of the Siva temple
and the conventional representation of Bodhisatvas, could find its
solution in the canonisation or deification of kings and famous chiefs,
a practice as old as ancestor-worship, which held its own in Java from
pre-Hindu days up to our own. However this may be, if the Prambanan
temples, and especially the one particularly dedicated to the great
god of the Trimoorti, preached orthodox Sivaïsm to the elect of its
innermost conviction, while tainted externally with the heresy of the
deniers of the existence of gods, the indubitably Buddhist Mendoot
reverses the process. This and the syncretism discernible in nearly all
the _chandis_ of Java, shows the religious tolerance of the Javanese
in the Hindu period. And religiously tolerant they are still as true
believers in the true faith of Islām; the fanaticism one occasionally
hears of, roots rather in discontent from economic causes than in
bigotry or over-zealous devotion to a creed which declares rebellion for
conscience’ sake against a firmly established rule that recognises it,
to be unlawful.
[Illustration: VIII. PRAMBANAN RELIEFS
(Cephas Sr.)]
The demi-gods and heroes with their followers on the outside of the
Siva temple, occupy, counting from the base upward, the third tier
of ornamentation, also the highest in the roofless condition of the
building: the few niches left above are empty. Beneath, the story of
Rama, an incarnation of Vishnu, is told in bas-reliefs which belong to
the very best Hindu sculpture discovered in Java or anywhere else. The
division of the casements is effected by bo-trees, sitting lions and
standing or dancing women in haut-relief, especially the last being of
exquisite workmanship. In endlessly varying attitudes, embracing one
another or tripping the light fantastic toe, retreating and advancing,
their measured steps being regulated by the musicians on interspersed
panels, they represent the _apsaras_, nymphs of heaven, adorning the
house of prayer to acquaint mortal man with the joys in store for
the doer of good. The human birds and other mythical animals under
the bo-trees, the prayer-bells and flowers in the garlanded foliage,
enhance the charm of this ingenious decoration, the splendidly limbed
virgins disporting themselves in a frame of imposing magnificence, their
graceful movements being worthily seconded by the sumptuous setting.
Nor does this wealth of detail, this marvellous display of artistic
power, of skill perfected by imaginative thought, divert the attention
from the divine idea embodied in Siva or from the introduction to its
understanding provided by the _Ramayana_, initiating the beholder’s
intelligence by degrees. All is so well balanced that the lower guides
to the higher in whetting comprehensive desire. First, on reaching the
terrace, starting from the low level of vulgar interest, curiosity and
sympathy are awakened by the epic which shared popular favour with the
_Brata Yuda_. It is not known who enriched the literature of Java with
a version of the _Ramayana_ adapted to Javanese requirements; as in the
case of the _Mahabharata_ he was probably one of the poets living at the
cultured courts of the eastern part of the island. Whatever his name,
he made a hit with his tale of the god who descended from heaven, bent
on flirting with the daughters of men, and won a wife, the tenderly
loving Sita, by drawing Dhanusha, the mighty bow of Siva. His success
may be appraised by the circumstance that scenes taken from his poem
were deemed suitable to embellish the tombs of sovereign rulers. Can it
be called an improvement after more than a thousand years of progressive
western civilisation that we, to honour the memory of our dead,
make shift with inflated epitaphs advertising virtues in life often
conspicuous by an absence which the maudlin angels of our cemeteries,
rather than shedding undeserved, vicarious tears, perpetually seem to
bemoan on their own account?
[Illustration: IX. PRAMBANAN RELIEFS
(Centrum.)]
The adventures of Vishnu in his Rama guise are told from the moment
of Dasharatha, King of Ayodhya, invoking his aid to make the royal
consorts partake of the blessing of motherhood. Vishnu, resting on the
seven-headed serpent of the sea, Sesha or Ananta, the one without end,
dispenses a potion which makes Kantalya, who drinks half of it, conceive
Rama; Kaykaji, who drinks a fourth part of it, Bharata; and the third
spouse, who drinks the rest, the twins Lakshmana and Shatrughna. We can
follow Vishnu, reborn from mortal woman, on the reliefs of the Siva
temple, which are tolerably preserved, through the first stages of his
earthly career as Rama, but must renounce studying his subsequent story
on the exterior of the temples dedicated to himself and Brahma, where
the third tier of sculpture has altogether disappeared, save a few
mutilated bas-reliefs. That is a great pity, for the illustration of the
_Ramayana_ by the artists entrusted with the decoration of the _chandi_
Prambanan, judging from what we still possess, marks the apogee of
Hindu-Javanese art; revelling in accessory ornament, it never surfeits,
keeping the leading idea well in view, every embellishment adding to its
intrinsic value. The heavy moulding above the lowest band of chiselled
work of the Siva temple has fortunately protected it from being damaged
by falling stones; here we are able to discover the sculptor’s technique
at close quarters and it is worthy of note that some of the curly lions
are wanting in their appointed places. This, coupled with the fact that
a few of the _apsaras_ remained unfinished, while others, like statues
of gods on higher planes, have only been outlined, and spaces, evidently
contrived for ornament, present flat surfaces, has led to the conjecture
of a catastrophe which surprised the builders and made them suspend
their labours as in the case of the Bimo temple of the Diëng plateau.
[Illustration: X. PRAMBANAN RELIEFS
(Centrum.)]
One of the salient features of the decoration at Prambanan, indeed of
all ancient Javanese art, Sivaïte and Buddhist, is the representation
of animal life as an important factor in human destiny. If the Buddha
was called the Sakya Sinha, the Lion of the Sakyas, and his sylvan
embodiment adorns in many reproductions the Boro Budoor, his stateliest
temple, at Sivaïte Prambanan we find the king of the desert extensively
utilised in the general decoration, together with the beasts of the
field under the bo-trees and fanciful combinations of man and his lowly
friends, not dumb but of different speech, like the _kinnaris_, the
bird-people. The _Ramayana_ bas-reliefs echo the kindness[46] shown to
those humble companions in Indian myth, history and present-day asylums
for the aged and infirm among them. Attending the monkey warriors
with whose help the simian deity Hanoman restored King Sugriva to the
throne of his forefathers at Kishkindhya (an allusion, it is thought,
to the doughty deeds of the aborigines of the Deccan), _bajings_[47]
and _bolooks_[47] are gambolling round the house of the Most Awful
and Mysterious, once worshipped here by great nations whose very names
are lost, but whose art, giving a place to all creation in symbolic
expression of the divine, still teaches us the lesson that the animals
are also children of the gods, endowed with life not to be exterminated
to serve our pleasure and our vanity, or to be abused for our profit,
but to enjoy the fullness of the earth and the good gifts of heaven as
we do ourselves, or might do if we were wise. Mother Nature, Siva’s
_sakti_ Doorga, nurses at her bosom all her husband’s offspring, without
distinction, and at Prambanan she superintends the growing world, as the
mistress of his household, in the highly finished form the artist has
given her: Loro Jonggrang, daughter of Ratu Boko of the Javanese legend.
Not in her outward character of the demon-steer subduing virago does she
attract her worshippers here, nor in that of the woman of the golden
skin riding the tiger, full of menace, but in that of Uma, the gentle
goddess who sheds light on perplexing problems of conduct, to whom one
turns in distress. Ideal of high-born loveliness, Loro Jonggrang is
especially venerated by those of her own sex who are in trouble or have
a desire to propound in the fumes of incense they burn: barren matrons
praying for issue from their bodies to their lords and masters, like the
wives of King Dasharatha; virgins anxious to get married; pseudo-virgins
who have trusted too much in the promises of their lovers, following the
_hadat_ established by herself at Prambanan and diligently observed
(not only, it should be noticed, in that neighbourhood, but likewise
where no one ever heard of Loro Jonggrang and her _escapades d’amour_),
insisting that, in the name of the precedent she set, consequences shall
be warded off. When _pasar_, _i.e._ market, falls on a Friday,[48] her
votaries are exceptionally numerous, mostly native women entreating
deliverance from female ills or help in the attainment of feminine
wishes. Chinese, half-caste and occasionally European ladies may,
however, be observed among them: it is said that several happy mothers
of the ruling race at Jogjakarta and Surakarta owe their husbands
and children to Notre Dame de Bon Secours of Prambanan; that brides
having obtained their heart’s desire in union with the beloved, the
bridegrooms in their turn repair to her shrine, after a honeymoon ended
in storm-clouds, with an earnest supplication for means of release. This
explains the sprinkling of males among the fair devotees on Fridays,
dejected looking persons who smear the statue of Doorga with _boreh_,
despite notices to desist, supplicating her to repeal former decrees,
having different objects in view, of course, with their salvings of
Ganesa and Siva’s _nandi_. Favours are requested, pledges are given,
votive sacrifices are performed, the gods and their attributes, Mboq
Loro Jonggrang in the first place, are wreathed and festooned with
flowers in compliance with an old Hindu custom so deeply rooted that
we may notice grave, turbaned _hajis_ yielding to it, unheedful of
the Prophet’s anathemas against those who commit the unpardonable sin
of idolatry, straying more widely from the right path than the brute
cattle, wicked doers, companions of hell-fire whose everlasting couch
shall be on burning coals.
[Illustration: XI. PRAMBANAN RELIEFS
(Centrum.)]
As the exhalations of the incense rise to the dying rays of the sun
and mix with the scent of the _kembangan telon_, the flowers of
sacrifice, _melati_, _kananga_ and _kantil_, the soughing of the
trees in the evening breeze repeats the lessons taught by an ancient
inscription found near the temples of Prambanan, and a summary of which
Hindu-Javanese _Libro del Principe_, taken from a translation by a
Panambahan of Sumanap, may be acceptable: What has been here set down,
was in the beginning an ancestral tradition, very useful if observed,
but, if disregarded, it becomes a curse. This inscription was made in
the year 396 (?), in the third month, on a Friday in the sixth era.
Let it inform you of the most exalted, of the road to enlightenment
and happiness, to attain your country’s progress and prosperity. Proof
thereof will be cheap food and raiment, and universal peace, that those
who honour the gods may lead tranquil lives. Honouring the gods is the
perfection of conduct. Whosoever strives after that will be smiled
upon by them, for the practising of virtue provides access to heaven,
which shines in splendour, and all gods will unite with the supreme
Siva Bathara Indra to assist the practiser of virtue. But whosoever
does wrong will go to perdition and his appearance will be monstrous,
his shape like the shape of a dog; such a one acts unwisely because he
turns away from virtue and obeys his passions, which are his enemies.
It seems good to know this in life, in order to practise virtue and
praise the godhead, believing in Bhatara, who has power over the world,
possessing heaven and earth. The teachers must also be respected,
without exception, because of their venerable charge, and you must
learn of them to honour Bathara above all gods, the Omnipotent, the
Ruler and Maintainer of everything. Praise him in order that you may
gain happiness and bliss even while you live on earth. Honour your
parents and the parents of your parents and their teachings, which are
inviolable, as they before you considered inviolable the teachings which
came to them from their parents and ancestors as received from the god
Bathara, who opened their hearts to probity. Know that they were allowed
to adorn themselves with fragrant flower-buds wherever their influence
penetrated: this will also be your privilege after the purification of
your minds. Conduct yourselves honestly according to divine direction,
acquire discretion and try to resemble the illustrious kings of the
past who compassed the felicity of their subjects. Be no regarders of
persons either among the good or among the bad; all are mortals in a
fleeting world. This consider: Bathara is the King of Kings who ordains
the holy institutions. Fill the place of a father among his children.
If there are any of your subjects who act wickedly, command them to
mend their ways; if they persist in evil, teach them to distinguish
between what is good and what is bad in their souls, to the advantage
of the living. Excellent men must be appointed to manage the affairs of
the people. These three things are of highest importance: that proper
instruction be given; that your subjects become prosperous instead of
poor through oppression; that every one of them know the boundaries of
his fields. Persevere in honouring Bathara! Glorify him and inherit joy!
Dress cleanly and keep your bodies clean. Acknowledge the omnipotence of
Bathara Giri Nata and, protected by him, no one can harm you. May his
superiority be reflected in you to confound the wicked doers. If you
desire a change of station, seek seclusion to do penance in order that
Bathara’s brilliancy may become visible in you. Nothing is so beautiful
and so profitable to you as the conquest of your passions, subduing
them to a pure mind and lofty aspirations, vanquishing the enemies of
virtue who reveal themselves: it will help to proclaim your lustrous
righteousness. Glorify Bathara! He will descend in his beneficence to
show you the way. Reflect seriously: some day you must die; ponder
over the mystery of life and make the ignorant understand for their
own salvation. Behaving in this manner, happiness cannot escape you,
kings of good rule, all of whose prayers will be listened to and with
whom no one can be compared: this is the sign of the eminence of the
sovereign who dominates men as the tiger dominates whatever breathes
in the forest. The gods will protect such kings to the benefit of
their subjects, traders and carriers of merchandise and labourers in
the fields. Nothing is denied to the obedient, for the gods ward off
evil from their thrones; evil is known in heaven before it touches the
mortals on earth. Glorify Bathara! The men of rank and high birth who
serve kings, must be of middle age. In their fiftieth year it behoves
them to retire from the world into prayerful solitude to die as a child
dies; let the body suffer for the soul, crowning the end of life. As
you grow in knowledge your wishes will be fulfilled and your soul will
leave its prison. The token of higher knowledge is evident. Where does
the soul go? It gains in beatitude or, if no progress has been made, it
seeks a refuge in the bodies of animals and people of mean appetites.
Gaining in beatitude, it reaches heaven, the garden of rest, but hell is
the abode of sin. Cleanse, therefore, your thoughts; eschew impurity! Do
not favour the wealthy, nor despise the poor; all are equally confided
to your care. O ye, who are kings and represent the gods in your
kingdoms, listen to this admonition and know your responsibility for the
ultimate lot of your subjects. Bathara, the lord of life and death, will
call you to account. Woman has been created inferior to man; but many
men are enticed to wrong-doing by the smooth speech of their women-folk,
who lack perception by the inscrutable decree of the gods. Woman wishes
to control man, taking her caprice for wisdom, always pressing him
to follow her fancies. The chronicles, however, mention the names of
queens like Sri Chitra Wati, Sinta Devi and Sakjrevati Drupadi. In the
days of Dhipara Jaga, Tirta Jaga, Karta Jaga and Sang Ngara bloody wars
devastated the land; kings were bewitched and changed into dragons and
elephants because they disregarded the ordinances of Bathara and also
because they were weak, not able to restrain their burning passion for
beautiful women, acting differently from that which behoves those in
authority. Possess your souls in continence! Bathara watches and you are
unacquainted with the hour of your death.
[Illustration: XII. PRAMBANAN RELIEFS
(Centrum.)]
The shadows of evening thicken; darkness gathers, darkness in the train
of Rahu, the devourer of sun and moon, robing the temples in gloom.
Fire-flies, darting from between the sculptured bo-trees and festooned
foliage, begin to hold their nocturnal feast but subside before a red
glare, nascent in the holy of holies. They return, as if borne by
strange, wild melodies, and grow into the luxurious forms of luminous
nymphs, the _apsaras_, who leave their stations round the house of fear
to dance their voluptuous dance of death, renouncing their allegiance to
the Mahadeva to court Kama of the flowery bow, consumed by the desire
to enjoy life and life’s best before the approach of the mower cutting
them down. Their mates, the _gandharvas_, excite them in their weird
revelry with songs and the musicians urge them with the clang of tabors
and cymbals. Shaped for the enchanting arts of love, skilled in the
wiles of female magic, they move in a whirl of passion, like flames of
fire, more redoubtable to man than the sword and arrows of his bitterest
foe. Luring the unwary who tarry at Prambanan when the fates, weaving
the web of the world, change the colours of day into night’s blackest
dyes, when the lotus-blossoms hang heavy on their stems and the air
is burdened with the odour of incense and sacrificial wreaths, they
intend his subversion by a mirage of delight, a hallucination of the
senses, and present the gratification of carnal desire as the triumph
of reason. Woe to him if he does not resist in the delirium of his
infatuation! The moment he tries to grasp their flitting forms, they
evade him as a mountain stream in spate, as the spray of its water
dashing down the rocks, as foam on the surging brine. The _apsaras_
mock, the _gandharvas_ hiss him, the musicians howl, all turning again
to stone, having instilled their subtle poison into his heart. He seeks
in vain the joy they held out to him, begs in vain for a draught of the
_soma_, the nectar of the gods. Then, shooting out from the great god’s
abode as a flash of lightning, the red glare takes substance and Siva
appears in his most terrible aspect, Kala, destroying time, waving the
skull which springs from the lotus stem, menacing men and cattle, the
wild beasts of the woods, the fowl of the air and the fish of the sea,
with the _trishula_, the trident of desolation. Behind him the Devi, his
spouse, emerges from her niche, riding Vayu, the stormwind, not Doorga
or Uma disguised as Loro Jonggrang, but Kali, the furious, of hideous
countenance, crowned with snakes, dripping with blood. Lifting up her
voice above the roaring of her steed, she joins the Dread One, Rudra,
the Thunderer, and passion and baffled desire become a portion of the
tempest she raises, the odour of the _kembangan telon_ breathing agony.
Mahakala, the Almighty Overthrower, deals death under his veil. But if
the night of terror begins in darkness, it will end in dawn and light
of day: all that lives, is born to die for new life to succeed, and so
teaches Siva himself, the Bhatara Guru. In adoration of Ganesa, the
fruit of his union with Parvati, wisdom will accrue to him who learns
the lesson; enlightenment from the spectacle of time, the demolisher,
fortifying fecund nature, reanimating the universe in anguish of decay.
Wisdom is the great gift, purification of the soul in abstinence from
the pleasures which drag it down, to keep the spark of the divine
undefiled in its earthly sheath with the aid of the father and the
son, whose distinctive qualities merge in Wighnesa, the vanquisher of
obstacles. Drinking their essence, man’s hearing and knowing leads to
affection and commiseration, to the second Brahma Vihara, the sublime
condition of sorrow at the sorrow of others, and when dissolution
arrives as a reward, Yama, the judge of the dead, will find no cause
for reproach. The good will enter the diamond gate, but grievous
torment awaits the foolish who pamper the flesh and are ensnared by the
daughters of lust.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[35] Whence its name, derived from _api_ (fire).
[36] The title Loro designates a lady of very high birth.
[37] _Legèn_ is the liquor prepared by fermentation of the sap drawn
from some trees of the palm family.
[38] From _tangkis_, _tinangkis_, which, derived from _nangkis_, “ward
off”, means “to repel one another.”
[39] _Telaga_ means “lake” and _powiniyan_, derived from _winih_,
“seed”, means a flooded ricefield in which the ears on the stalks, bound
in sheaves, are put to serve for seeding.
[40] Not the last, as this legend has it, for Ratu Boko’s roaring can
yet be heard on still nights, if we may believe the people who dwell on
the banks of the Telaga Powiniyan.
[41] _Padi_ is rice in the hull, shelled by the women and girls, usually
very early in the morning, by stamping it in blocks of wood hollowed out
for the purpose.
[42] Bondowoso’s curse took dire effect and the Javanese lassies of the
neighbourhood, who enter the bonds of matrimony about their fourteenth
year, comment with sarcastic pity on the fact that their sisters of
Prambanan have, as a rule, to wait some ten rainy seasons longer--not
without seeking compensation, it is alleged, after the example set by
their patron saint Loro Jonggrang, whose maidenly life, according to
the _babad chandi Sewu_, of which more later on, was not altogether
blameless.
[43] The very precise ridicule this appellation, which originated in
the childish credulity of the natives, who persist in paying homage to
a statue of Doorga as if it were actually their petrified Mboq Loro
Jonggrang; but the real name of the group being unknown, why should we
reject a distinction not denoted by the less definite term Prambanan?
[44] Major, then still Captain T. VAN ERP in his report to the
_Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences_, January 11, 1909.
[45] The sculptor showed his independence by disregarding the more
canonical number of sixteen or ten.
[46] Stimulated especially by Buddhist and Jaïn influences.
[47] Squirrels: _Sciurus nigrovittatus_ and _Pteromys elegans_ and
_nitidus_.
[48] _Pasar_ is held once every five days and once every thirty-five
days it falls, therefore, on a Friday.
[Illustration]