EAST JAVA
cosi da l’ossa dei sepolti cantano
i germi de la vita e degli spiriti.[87]
GIOSUÈ CARDUCCI, _Odi Barbare_ (_Canto di marzo_).
When, suddenly, for reasons still unknown, the classic period of art
in Central Java closed, about 850 Saka (A.D. 928), East Java
awakened and entered on an era of artistic activity in every direction,
which lasted until the fall of Mojopahit six centuries and a half
later. In architecture it offers nothing so grand and imposing as the
ancient temples of the Middle Empire, but much more diversity, and
numerous inscriptions, resembling, after 900 Saka (A.D. 978),
in form and contents, what we possess of old Javanese literature,
enable us in many cases to determine the dates and also the character
of the _chandis_, found principally along the course of the Brantas
in the residencies Pasuruan, Kediri and Surabaya. Moving eastward, it
was there that Hindu civilisation made greatest progress, no more
in the vigorous enthusiasm of a young faith eager to proselyte, but
modified by and finally succumbing to the influences of the soil,
the climate, the idiosyncrasies of the aborigines. The oldest dates
(Madioon, Kediri, Surabaya and Pasuruan) fall between 890 and 1140;
then we have a good many again from Kediri (1120-1240 and 1270-1460)
and from Surabaya (1270-1490); also from Pasuruan, Probolinggo and
Besuki (1340-1470), Madura (1290-1440) and Rembang (1370-1390); finally,
the constructive energy returning to Central Java, from Samarang and
Surakarta (1420-1460), Suku and Cheto bringing up the rear. In the palmy
days of Daha and Tumapel a sort of transition style was elaborated;
under Ken Angrok and his descendants on the throne of Mojopahit, East
Java reached its architectural zenith, never equal in the grandeur of
its conceptions to the Boro Budoor or even the Prambanan temples, to
the symmetrical richness of the Mendoot, but making up in fantastic
decoration what it had lost in sobriety of outline. The builders
pandered to the unwholesome demand for that perfection at any cost
which Ruskin censures as the main mistake of the Renaissance in its
early stages, the workman losing his soul in exchange for consummate
finish. But, though they bear the impress of decadence, the products of
eastern Javanese constructive efforts are not wholly degenerate, never
coarse or vulgar and well worth looking at from more than one point of
view. The evolution of the ornament alone is exceedingly suggestive:
the “recalcitrant spiral” which in Central Java ascends, decking the
supports, topples, as it were, in East Java, losing its character and
becoming a meaningless adornment of the casements of, _e.g._, the
_chandi_ Panataran; the _kala_-heads remain but the _makaras_ change
into a flame-like embellishment; where they are altogether dissolved,
as in the _chandi_ Jago or Toompang, it is safe to conclude with Dr.
Brandes to late eastern Javanese influences.[88]
It has been conjectured that the migration of Hinduïsm to East Java was
the effect of Buddhism gaining ground in the central part of the island;
that the pronounced Sivaïte tendencies of Mojopahit were a reaction
against Buddhist innovations. But it remains still to be proved that
Mojopahit, though worshipping Siva as the supreme god of the Trimoorti,
adhered to his overlordship in all its orthodox purity. There are, on
the contrary, indications of Vishnuïte leanings, of Buddhist heresy, of
a syncretism no less pronounced than that of Prambanan and the Mendoot.
In the time of Old Mataram’s hegemony, Buddhism must have ingratiated
itself to some extent with her eastern vassals and, though not one of
the temples in East Java is Buddhist after the fashion of the _chandis_
Boro Budoor, Mendoot and Sewu, vestiges of the Bhagavat’s doctrine
are undeniable in Kediri, Southern Surabaya and Northern Pasuruan.
A fusion of Sivaïsm and Buddhism has continuously controlled the
construction of the larger temples of the later eastern Javanese period,
says Rouffaer. Statues found in many places, _e.g._ in the _chandi_
Toompang, are distinctly Buddhist and, what is most remarkable, though
of later workmanship than those of Central Java and of a different
style, tainted by decadent methods, they possess high merits as works
of art. In their Sivaïtic surroundings they confirm the statements of
the Chinese traveller Hiuen Tsiang who, perambulating India between 629
and 645, before the persecution of the Buddhists commenced, remarked
upon the tolerance of the brahmins and _vice versa_, a virtue the
Hindus carried with them to Java as already observed in the chapter on
Prambanan. The kings of Mojopahit followed the example set in those
regions: they were Saivas, Vaishnavas, Buddhists or followers of no
one creed in particular, ready to protect and prefer each of them
according to circumstances. In codes of law and poetry, Sivaïte priests
and _sugatas_, pious brethren on the Buddhist road to perfection, are
mentioned in one breath as conductors of the religious exercises on
festive occasions, invoking the blessings of heaven on harvests and
enterprises of peace and war; the poet Tantular calls the Buddha one
with the Trimoorti.[89]
The Muhammadans were not so indulgent when the Pangerans of Giri
increased in authority as spiritual leaders of their faith, successors
of Maulana Ibrahim, its first apostle in East Java. The hillock of Giri
became a centre of incitement to the holy war, particularly so under
Raden Ratu Paku or Sunan Prabu Satmoto, whose tomb is still an object
of Moslim pilgrimage.[90] With his approval, if not on his instigation,
the Muhammadan states on the north coast combined under Raden Patah of
Demak to compass the extermination of heathenism and he lived to see
the overthrow of Mojopahit, though dying shortly afterwards. If the
Moslemin yearned to gain Paradise, sword in hand, martyrs for their
Prophet’s dispensation, those of the old creed remembered the power of
_their_ gods, blowing the _sanka_, the war-shell of Vishnu, who proved
to Sugriva and Hanoman his superiority over Wali by shooting his arrow
through seven palm-trunks; who, in his fourth _avatar_, as _narasinha_,
the man-lion, ripped open the belly of the sacrilegious demon Hiranya
Kasipu. But Raden Patah, marching with his allies, marvellously helped
in the way of the Lord against the idolaters of Mojopahit, the swollen
with pride, proved to be the giant in the shape of a dwarf, Vamana,
known from their god’s fifth _avatar_, conqueror of the three worlds.
And Mojopahit, so great that the claims to the honour of her foundation,
forwarded by as many princely houses as existed in those days, were
fused in the tradition of her divine origin, her capital with its
hundred gates and shining streets and palaces, the like of which had
never been seen, having sprung from the earth in one night as a flower
at the call of the fragrant dawn,--Mojopahit was overthrown and, laments
the Javanese chronicle, the prosperity of the island disappeared. Not
the last but the strongest bulwark of Hinduïsm had ceased to exist,
bearing bitter fruit[91] of presumptuous pride indeed; the later Hindu
empires, even Balambangan, which gave so much trouble to New Mataram
and submitted only to the arms of the East India Company, leaving the
ancient creed to die of slow exhaustion in the Tengger mountains, were
nothing compared to her.
Like the remains, near the _dessa_ Galang, of the _kraton_ of the kings
of the older empire of Daha, what has escaped total destruction of the
capital of Mojopahit is constructed of brick. The ruins are situated
about eight miles to the southwest of Mojokerto[92] in the valley of
the Brantas; near Ngoomplak was the site of a royal residence in the
building of which stone seems also to have been used. Raffles, visiting
those heaps of debris scattered over quite a large area, found but
scanty evidence of the fact that he trod the spot where great rulers
had employed great architects, raising great structures for posterity
to remember their great deeds by; Wardenaar, whom he had taken with
him as a draughtsman, might have stayed at Batavia, though in his
_History of Java_ he gives an illustration of “one of the gateways” and
says that the marks of former grandeur there are more manifest than at
Pajajaran, which, well considered, is saying very little. Now, a century
later, a century of continued neglect, the general impression is still
less calculated to prompt a vision of heroes subjecting thrones and
dominions in the short space left them by their ancestor Ken Angrok’s
murderous kris, defying the grave, unmindful of Mpu Gandring’s curse.
Walking round in an effort to fit the scenery to historical dramas of
love, hate and ambition, extreme care is necessary to avoid stepping
on snakes coiled in dangerous repose or crawling among the brickbats
which represent the foundations of princely mansions, digesting their
last meal or hungry after the lizards that move restlessly in and out
of chinks and crannies, lively beasties, enjoying the sunshine until
snapped up, far more interesting really than the piles of rubbish
bearing meaningless names. The natives one meets, will spin yarns _ad
libitum_ anent the numerous graves and crumbling substructures, but few
have an intelligible tale to tell. Here are portions of the city-wall;
there the remnant of the gate Bajang Ratu; half a mile farther the
_aloon aloon_, the _taman_ or pleasance, the tanks for bathing. A road,
in great need of repair, leads through the Trowulan, the interior;
exterior roads may be taken through ricefields and teak-plantations
to the tomb of Ratu Champa, distinguished by curtains which once may
have been white. Before a small building, enclosed by a fence, lies a
stone supposed to cover the entrance to a subterranean apartment, the
hiding-place, it is said, of the last king of Mojopahit when his capital
was taken by the Moslim enemy. More graves surround that cache, graves
without and, to intimate the pre-eminent importance of the elect thus
honoured, graves _with_ dirty curtains, narrow strips of soiled cloth,
sad offerings to the dead sovereigns of an empire of celestial fame. One
feels almost inclined to refuse credence to the grand past this ragged
display tries to commemorate and, from sheer disappointment, to join the
ranks of the sceptics who doubt of the capital of Mojopahit ever having
amounted to much, and maintain that, in any case, it had come down and
was of no consequence compared with Tuban and Gresik, already in 1416, a
century before its falling into the hands of the Muhammadans.
At Mojopahit it is the same old story of quarrying for building
material: several sugar-mills in the neighbourhood with the dwellings
of managers and employees, have been wholly or partly constructed of
Mojopahit bricks. In 1887 I saw them used for the abutments of bridges,
foremen of the Department of Public Works superintending. A short
time before, twelve copper plates had been found with inscriptions in
ancient characters, which disappeared in a mysterious way. The _rechos_
of Mojopahit were mostly left alone, a respectful treatment they owed
to their general clumsiness. Some two or three miles from the ruins
of the capital, a goodly number stand or lie together fair samples of
statuary of the first eastern Javanese period, in its extravagance and
exaggeration a travesty of the classic art of Central Java, crudity of
conception floundering in a redundancy of form also observable at the
_chandis_ Suku and Cheto; after the fall of Mojopahit, in the second
period, the sculptor reverted to a close study of nature as manifested
at the _chandis_ Toompang and Panataran; in the third, Hindu methods
getting crowded within ever narrower limits, his fancy betrayed him
again into lavish detail as exemplified in old Balinese imagery. At the
gradual extinction of Hindu ideals of beauty, realised in decaying stone
and brick, in statues defaced and vanishing like dwindling phantoms,
a growing sensation of emptiness, emphasised by vague reminiscences
of the artistic fullness of the _jaman buda_, claiming amends from
succeeding creeds, received little from Islām and absolutely nothing
from Christianity. Under Dutch rule very few attempts at style in Java
and the other islands of the Malay Archipelago have been made at all,
and of these few only one has resulted in an achievement not altogether
ridiculous, namely the old town-hall, begun in 1707 and finished in
1710, of old Batavia, where the Resident has his office, by the natives
very appropriately called _rumah bichara_, _i.e._ “house of talk”. With
one or two utterly tasteless exceptions, the rest of the Government and
private buildings, including the palaces of the Governor-General at
Weltevreden and Buitenzorg, descend in their architecture to the lowest
grade of the commonplace. To his Excellency’s ill-kept country-seat
in the Preanger subverted Mojopahit seems almost preferable,
notwithstanding the squalor of its threadbare _kaïn klambu_ decoration;
the meanness of the viceregal reception- and living-rooms at Chipanas is
not even picturesque and surely some of the public money regularly paid
out for the maintenance of the “Government hotels” might be profitably
expended on the improvement of the surroundings of Her Majesty the Queen
of the Netherlands’ representative in the Dutch East Indies, including
the rickety furniture, shabby napery, etc., which has a pitiful tale of
unseemly parsimony to tell: the superiority of high rank needs decorum
and nowhere more than in oriental countries, a truth lately too much
lost sight of by officials, high and low, who, following the example set
at Buitenzorg, hoarding against the hour of their demission, presume on
their “prestige” without anything to back it.
Mojopahit had ceased to exist and the Muhammadans with the Christians in
their wake overran Java, despoiling the land in which toleration and art
could no more flourish, but dissension throve as the tree prophetically
imaged at the Boro Budoor, whose branches bear swords and daggers
instead of wholesome, luscious fruit. The old quarrels over political
supremacy were surpassed in violence by religious strife, and fanaticism
is still held responsible in our day for disturbances conveniently
ascribed to Moslim cussedness when the acknowledgment of the real cause,
discontent born from over-taxation, would be tantamount to a confession
of administrative impotence. It was not Hanoman, the deliverer of
Sita, who troubled the repose of Ravana’s garden, but the _raksasas_
and _raksasis_ who kept her in bonds, and there are two solutions of
the Dutch East Indian problem, independent of the issue celebrated in
the _Ramayana_ and both suggested in the ornament of Java’s temples:
the devourer Time destroying all with his sharp teeth, and the lion,
or tiger, to preserve the local colour, master of the fleeting moment,
with a garland of flowers in his mouth, image of the clouded present
holding out the promise of a brighter future. The two auguries, dark yet
hopeful, belong to one old order of ideas, prefiguring things to come
in dubious language, after the wont of oracles, ancient and modern, and
we can choose the forecast which likes us best. So did the princes of
Daha, Tumapel and Mojopahit, not to mention the lesser fry, creatures of
a breath as we deem them now, doughty warriors and far-seeing statesmen
to their contemporaries, who consulted their soothsayers before treading
the fields of fame and blood whence they were carried to their graves,
admiring nations rearing the mausoleums which now constitute the
greater part of the historic monuments of East Java. The _Pararaton_
mentions no fewer than seventy-three structures of that description.
Such as have been left are, for various reasons, hard to classify,
the greatest difficulty arising from their bad state of preservation,
though deciphered dates furnish important clues, for instance regarding
some _chandis_ in Kediri: Papoh (1301), Tagal Sari (1309), Kali Chilik
(1349), Panataran (1319-1375),[93] the last named being probably
the principal tomb of the dynasty of Mojopahit. Springing from the
soil in amazing dissimilitude, their architects seeking new modes of
expression in new forms and never hesitating at any oddity, at any
audacity to proclaim the message of artistic freedom from convention,
they struggled free from the sober lines and harmonious distribution
of spaces always maintained in Central Java, to run riot in fantastic
innovations. Yet, they held communion with nature and neither shirked
their responsibility nor sinned against the proper relations between
their purpose and the visible consummation of their task as those of
our modern master-builders do who contrive churches like barns or
cattle-sheds, stables like gothic chapels, prisons like halls of fame
and cottages like mediaeval donjons. From such architectural absurdities
it is pleasant to turn, _e.g._, to the _chandi_ Papoh, a temple whose
corner-shrines might pass for daintily wrought golden reliquaries inlaid
with jewels, when the minute detail of their exquisite decoration
is shone upon by the setting sun; or to the _chandi_ Sangrahan,
when warmed to life from death and fearful decay, by the blue of a
measureless sky, again budding from the earth, lovely as the lotus
in the bliss bestowing hand of one of the five finely chiselled but
headless statues near by.
[Illustration: XV. _CHANDI_ PAPOH
(Archaeological Service through Charls and van Es.)]
Holiness in East Java, as everywhere in the island, took naturally
to bathing. The retreat Bookti in the district Rembes, set apart for
that pastime, according to the legend by Semu Mangaran, first king of
Ngarawan (the later Bowerno and still later Rembang), had and has many
rivals, nearly all in possession of antiquities to show their sacred
character and the regard in which they were held. Some, like Bookti
and Banyu Biru, the deservedly popular “blue water” of Pasuruan, are
enlivened by colonies of monkeys, descendants of the apes kept there in
Hindu times, beggars by profession, whose antics reap a rich reward.
Sarangan in Madioon, Trawulan and Jalatoonda in Surabaya, Jati Kuwoong
and Panataran in Kediri, Ngaglik and Balahan in Pasuruan, shared in
olden times the renown which now is principally divided between Banyu
Biru and Wendit, not to forget Oombulan, delightful spots, typical of a
land where life is a continuous caress. Ngaglik has a beautiful female
statue, evidently destined to do service as a fountain-figure after
the manner of the nymphs which grace John the Fleming’s[94] Fontana
del Nettuno in Bologna and countless other waterworks of his and the
succeeding period. Wendit has Sivaïte remains: the prime god’s _nandi_,
statues of Doorga, Ganesa, etc.; most of the _lingas_ and _yonis_ that
used to keep them company as reminders of their inmost nature, have been
carried off. Banyu Biru has a statue of Doorga, _raksasas_, fragments
of Banaspatis, etc., and a very remarkable image of Ganesa with female
aspect, an object of veneration, especially on Friday evenings when
flowers and copper, even silver coins are strewn round to propitiate
his dual spirit, candles are lighted and sweetmeats offered to the
ancient deities taken collectively. The _chandis_ Jalatoonda and Putri
Jawa served a double purpose: devotion and ablution, facilities for an
invigorating bath playing a prominent part. The former, in the district
Mojokerto, residency Surabaya, is the mausoleum of King Udayana, father
of King Erlangga, and one of the oldest monuments in East Java; the
latter, in the district Pandakan, residency Pasuruan, has much in
common, as to ornament, with the _chandi_ Surawana of the year 1365 and
belongs on the contrary to the younger products of Hindu architecture.
_Chandi_ Putri Jawa means “temple of the Javanese princesses”, and
Ratu Kenya, the Virgin Queen of Mojopahit (1328-1353), who spoiled her
reputation for chastity by losing her heart to a groom in her stables
and making him share her throne, as the _Damar Wulan_ informs us, may
have repaired thither with her ladies-in-waiting to sacrifice and
disport in the swimming-tank which is still replenished with water from
the neighbouring river, flowing through the cleverly devised conduits;
or the women of her luckless last successor, King Bra Wijaya, may have
taken their pleasure there along with their devotional exercises before
the Moslim torrent swamped their lord and master’s high estate, harem
and all.
Cave temples have been found in Surabaya (Jedoong), in Besuki (Salak)
and in Kediri (Jurang Limas and Sela Mangleng). The latter, of greatest
interest and Buddhist in character, can be divided into pairs: Sela
Baleh and Guwa Tritis, Joonjoong and Jajar. They are easily reached
from Tuloong Agoong and, though the removable statuary is gone,
except the heavy _raksasas_, defaced figures on pedestals, etc., the
sculpture of the interior walls of the caves remained in a tolerable
state of preservation. Above on the ridge is a spot much resorted to
for meditation and prayer, where the view of the charming valley of
the Brantas, bounded by the beetling cliffs of the south coast, the
treacherous Keloot to the northeast and the majestic Wilis[95] to the
northwest, prepares the soul for communion with the Spirit of the
Universe. Remains of brick structures abound in East Java; besides the
ruins of Daha and Mojopahit we have, for instance, the walls of the Guwa
Tritis under the jutting Gunoong Budek, the _chandis_ Ngetos at the foot
of the Wilis, Kali Chilik near Panataran, Jaboong in Probolinggo and
Derma in Pasuruan. The _chandi_ Jaboong presents a remarkable instance
of tower-construction applied to religious buildings in Java as further
exemplified, conjointly with terraces, in the _chandi_ Toompang. The
surprises offered by the _chandi_ Derma are no less gratifying, firstly
to travellers in general who visit Bangil and, approaching the temple,
which remains hidden to the last moment, suddenly come upon it in an
open space adapted to full examination; secondly to archaeologists in
particular because, dating from the reign of Mpu Sindok (850 Saka or
before) and therefore one of the oldest monuments in East Java, if not
the oldest in a recognisable state of preservation, it must be accepted
as the prototype of Javanese architecture bequeathed by Old Mataram and
is a valuable help to the study of the ancient builders’ technique,
showing, among other things, says Dr. Brandes, that the larger
ornamental units are of one piece of terra-cotta, joined to the masonry
by means of tenons and mortises.
About a mile to the southeast of Malang, on the top of a hill near the
_kampong_ Bureng, are traces of more buildings constructed in brick,
the ruins of Kota Bedah. The foundation of that city is attributed to
a son of Gajah Mada, chief minister of the last king of Mojopahit who,
after his master’s fall, fled eastward and, subjecting Singosari with
adjoining territories, became the progenitor of the dynasty of Supit
Urang. The Moslemin pushing on and harassing the Saivas wherever met,
invested Kota Bedah but, not prevailing against the strong defence of
its commander Ronga Parmana, they caught the citizens’ pigeons which
flew over their camp and, attaching pieces of burning match-rope to
the birds’ wings and tail-feathers, they set fire to the thatch of
the houses within the walls and so gained their end. Thereupon they
destroyed the royal residence Gedondong, to the east of Malang, and
those of Supit Urang took refuge in the Tengger mountains. This is
one of several traditions explaining the existence of Sivaïte remains
scattered in that neighbourhood: at Dinoyo, Karanglo, Singoro, Katu,
Pakentan, etc. On the road to Toompang stands the _chandi_ Kidal, one
of the best preserved in Java, only the upper part of the roof having
fallen down. It is the mausoleum of Anusapati, the Hamlet of Javanese
history, referred to in the preceding chapter, who was killed in 1249
by his step-brother. His likeness has been sought in an image of Siva,
on the supposition that some statues of deities there erected, which
point to the use of living models, represent the features of exalted
personages. An enormous Banaspati over the entrance with smaller ones
over the niches, _garudas_ and lions form the principal decoration in
frames of highly finished ornament. Dr. Brandes remarks that in contrast
to the decoration of the temples in Central Java, the heavy ornament
of the relief-tableaux is here distributed over the parts which carry
the weight of the superstructure, while the lighter ornament finds
employment on the panels and facings. The methods of construction
and the treatment of details mark clearly a transition to the younger
period of eastern Javanese architecture best illustrated by the _chandi_
Panataran.
[Illustration: XVI. _CHANDI_ SINGOSARI
(Archaeological Service through Charls and van Es.)]
Somewhat older, built in 1278 as a mausoleum for Kertanegara, the
last king of Tumapel, who reigned from 1264 to 1292 and was killed in
battle by Jaya Katong, King of Daha, is the _chandi_ Singosari, near
the railway station of that name, an excellent starting-point for an
ascension of the fire-mountain Arjuno or Widadaren. It has been called
one of the most unfortunate monuments in the island; not, presumably,
because it shared the common lot, being gradually deprived of its finest
ornament while its stones were freely disposed of for building material
without the local authorities minding in the least, but because the
spoliation could be watched by a comparatively large number of planters
and industrials, settled in the neighbourhood, none of them interfering
unless to its detriment. Insurmountable difficulties of transportation
opposed the removal of the colossal _raksasas_ and so they were left
with a _nandi_, a sun-carriage and, among fragments too defaced for
recognition, a Ganesa and a female Buddhist saint, for this temple-tomb
is of a mixed character in its religious aspect. A Javanese chronicle
relates that Kertanegara was buried at Singosari in 1295, three years
after his death, in the guise of Siva-Buddha, and at Sakala conformably
to a more pronounced Buddhist rite. He was considered a wise ruler,
notwithstanding his abusive attitude towards China, which had such
dire results. He built an edifice, continues the _babad_, divided into
two parts, the lower one Sivaïtic, the upper one Buddhistic, because
in his life he prided himself on being a Saiva as well as a Buddhist.
A richly ornamented _kala_-head in eastern Javanese style testifies to
the admirable technique of the builders and decorators. According to
popular belief a subterranean passage leads from Singosari to Polaman,
about six miles away, a place of sacrifice in Hindu days, and another
to Mondoroko, close by, the site of a ruin with a graceful statue of a
female deity, two smaller ones which remind the beholder of Siva’s and
Doorga’s creative faculties, and sadly damaged bas-reliefs. In 1904
an inscribed stone was recovered, at the intimation of a native, from
a pond near Singosari. Confirming the data furnished by the Javanese
chronicles, the inscription states that in 1351 Gajah Mada, the Prime
Minister of Mojopahit, acting for King Wisnuwardhani, founded a
temple-tomb, sacred to the memory of the priests, Saivas and Buddhists,
who, in the year 1292, had followed their King Kertanegara in death, and
of the old Prime Minister who had been killed at his feet.... “See here
the foundation of the most honourable Prime Minister of Java’s sea-girt
domain.”
[Illustration: XVII. _CHANDI_ TOOMPANG
(Archaeological Service through Charls and van Es.)]
Finest and most interesting of the Malang complex is the
_chandi_ Jago, about twelve miles to the east of the capital of the
assistant-residency, in the _aloon aloon_ of Toompang and hence more
commonly named _chandi_ Toompang. It was the first taken in hand by
the Commission appointed in 1901 and we owe most of the information,
summarised in the following lines, to Dr. Brandes’ reports on this
archaeological debut. A rare example of tower-construction of the kind
also observed in the _chandi_ Jaboong, superposed on a raised level
reached by terraces like those of the _chandis_ Panataran and Boro
Budoor, the extraordinary Javanese mixture of Sivaïsm and Buddhism
with a dash of Vishnuïsm has affected it to such a degree that even
a recent description declares it to be a Buddhist pit-temple--a
contradiction in terms. Begun in the middle of the thirteenth century,
_i.e._ in the time of Tumapel’s political ascendency when Sivaïsm
was the state religion, if we may speak of a state religion among
peoples and princes whose predominant article of faith was tolerance
and concession of equal rights to all religions, some of the learned
investigators suppose with Professor Speyer that the Buddhist note was
a consequence of the persecution of the adherents of Gautama’s creed
in India and the hospitality extended to the emigrants all over the
island Java. However this may be, syncretism became rampant in both the
ground-plan and the decoration of the _chandi_ Toompang, conceived as
an elevated dodecagonal structure on the highest of three irregularly
shaped terraces, something quite exceptional in Javanese architecture.
Apparently while the building was in progress, remarks Rouffaer, changes
were made in the original project, and the more is the pity that the
temple proper has fallen into almost complete ruin: not only that the
roof is lacking, but the toppling back wall has dragged the greater
part of the north and south walls down with it. The front or west wall
has held out to a certain extent with the gateway, the chief entrance,
a lofty, rectangular, monumental passage, ornamented on both sides and
locked with a key-stone whose smooth middle space was destined, in the
opinion of Dr. Brandes, to receive, but never did receive, the date of
completion. Heaps of debris round about lead to the conjecture that the
whole was encircled by a wall of brick and that the dwellings of the
keepers or officiating priests were composed of the same material.
Several of the bas-reliefs fortunately escaped destruction and found
an interpreter in Dr. Brandes, to whom we also owe explanations of
the stereotyped decorative scrolls and flourishes. Though inferior in
workmanship to the reliefs of Panataran, those of Toompang, “speaking”
reliefs as he called them, are vigorously animated, gaining in interest
to the devotee as he ascends the terraces, their masterly treatment
culminating in what has been preserved on the portion still standing of
the temple-walls. No better illustration of high and low life, of the
nobility and the riff-raff portrayed in classic Javanese literature,
could be imagined; the typical perfect knights and sly buffoons
are there in crowds, princes and courtiers, warriors and peasants,
gallivanting beaux and love-sick maidens, jealous husbands and frisky
wives, worldwise sages and babbling fools, Javanese Don Quijotes riding
out with their trusty squires of the Sancho Panza species, go-betweens
neither better nor worse than Celestina, entangling dusky Melibeas.
Every honourable soul is set off by his or her vulgar counterpart, of
the earth earthy: the _panakawan_ (page) and the _inya_ (nurse) play
most important rôles, almost equally important with those of the hero
and heroine, and their characters are, conformably to the requirements
of Javanese literature, clumsy and coarse but droll; their actions,
whether they accomplish or fail to accomplish their tasks, reflect the
performances of the born ladies and gentlemen whom they accompany, who
lose each other and are reunited, who quarrel and make up, always in a
comely, stately way, proud and sensitive, expressing their feelings in
graceful gestures corresponding with the choicest words. When treating
of Panataran, the ornamentation of the ancient monuments of East Java
in its relation to Javanese literature will be more fully discussed.
Here, however, belongs a reference to Dr. Brandes’ ingenious explanation
of the slanting stripes or bars, left uncarved at irregular intervals
on the narrow tiers of bas-reliefs at the _chandi_ Toompang; comparing
those sculptured bands with the _lontar_[96] leaves on which the tales,
whose illustration they furnish, were originally written, he saw in them
the finishing strokes of the different chapters.
The statuary of the _chandi_ Toompang has been removed, for the greater
part, to the Museum at Batavia and, possibly, one or two images, with
Professor Reinwardt’s invoice of 1820, to that of Leyden. The deities
are brilliantly executed, of idealistic design, to borrow Rouffaer’s
words, exuberant to the point of effeminacy. Some of them show the
conventional Hindu type and we can imagine the wonderful effect they
produced among the essentially Javanese scenes chiselled on the
walls. For their inscriptions Nagari characters have been used, a
circumstance adduced to prove the predominant Buddhist significance of
this temple. The principal statue seems to have been the decapitated
and otherwise damaged, eight-armed,[97] colossal Amoghapasa, Lord of
the World, reproduced by Raffles, including the head, “carried to
Malang some years ago by a Dutchman,” he informs us, which, symbolic
of unity with Padmapani, displays Amitabha, the Dhyani Buddha of the
West, the Buddha of Endless Light, in the manner of a frontal. The
goddess Mamakhi, scarcely less beautifully cut and also reproduced by
Raffles in his _History of Java_, was carried to England _in tota_ by
himself. Efforts to trace her whereabouts have not met with success;
she remains more securely hidden, probably in one of the store-rooms
of the British Museum, than the stone with inscription recording
an endowment, transported from Java to the grounds of Minto House
near Hassendean, Scotland. Talking of carrying away: a little to the
southeast of the _chandi_ Toompang stood a temple of which hardly a
stone has been left; a little to the south of the _chandi_ Singosari
another is visibly melting into air. The Chinese community at Malang, as
Dr. Brandes informed the Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences, boast
of a permanent exhibition of Hindu statuary and ornament, consisting of
more than 160 numbers, gathered together in the neighbourhood and on
view in their cemetery. Baba collects Sivaïte and Buddhist antiquities
with great impartiality, subordinating religious scruples to practical
considerations, as when he lights his long-stemmed pipe at one of
the votive candles on the altars in his places of worship. Excellent
opportunities for the study of Chinese influences on Javanese art are
offered by the decoration of his temple in Malang with its motives
derived from creeping, fluttering, running, pursuing and fleeing
things: tigers, deer, dragons, bats, especially bats, shooting up and
down, flitting off, swiftly turning back, circling and scudding. The
mural paintings of a good many other _klentengs_, too, are of more
than passing interest since they promote a right understanding of the
development of the Greater Vehicle of the Law, which in Java exchanged
fancies and notions with both Chinese Buddhism and Taoïsm, discarded
the classic for the romantic, if the expression be permissible in this
connection, and still continues to live among the island’s inhabitants
of Mongolian extraction, as Sivaïsm among the Balinese, their creative
thought moulding old fundamental ideas in unexpected new forms. If
Buddhism brought new elements into Chinese art, stimulating ideals and
religious imagery, as the Count de Soissons remarks,[98] leading, for
instance, to sublime personifications of Mercy, Tenderness and Love,
the debt is repaid and emigrating Chinese decorators shower the graces
of their benign goddess Kwan Yin on their labours in distant climes.
As to Java, with which China entertained relations from the remotest
Hindu period, they animated and reshaped in endless variation the
ornament they found, the _makaras_, the _kala_-heads, at last, in their
_saï-shiho_ tracery, being gradually supplanted by the bat-motive.
[Illustration: XVIII. _CHANDI_ PANATARAN
(Archaeological Service through Charls and van Es.)]
The _chandi_ Panataran is the most beautiful, for many reasons also
the most remarkable temple in East Java and, with the exception of the
Boro Budoor, the largest in the whole island. It was discovered by the
American explorer Thomas Horsfield. Its foundations and the interior
of its sepulchral pit are constructed in brick; its terraces are in
general design not unlike those of the _chandi_ Toompang; among its
statues, stolen and scattered far and wide, it may have contained images
of Buddhist purport and inspiration. Sivaïtic in aspect, however, as it
stands now, it is the only one of the monuments in Kediri sufficiently
preserved to determine its religious origin. Fergusson classes
the _chandi_ Panataran with the tree- and serpent-temples whose most
peculiar feature in the residencies Malang and Kediri consists in having
“a well-hole in the centre of their upper platform, extending apparently
to their basement,” and the suggestion occurring to him “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 in the virgin soil, or that
they were wholly or partially filled with earth and the tree planted
in them.” He compares the _chandi_ Panataran with the Naha Vihara or
Temple of the Bo-tree in Ceylon and bases its claim to being called a
serpent-temple on the fact that “the whole of the basement moulding
is made up of eight great serpents, two on each face, whose upraised
breasts 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 Cambodja, but more like the fierce, crested serpents of
Central America.” So far Fergusson; but the well or pit, notwithstanding
the veneration of which the bo-tree was the object, seems rather to have
been a receptacle for the ashes of the princes of Mojopahit whose memory
the founder of this mausoleum, probably Queen Jayavisnuvardhani,
the above-mentioned Ratu Kenya, immortalised in the _Damar Wulan_,
intended to perpetuate. The _raksasas_, guardians of the ruins of the
principal structure, bear the date 1242 Saka (A.D. 1320); a minor
temple and terrace give the dates 1369 and 1375, from which it has been
concluded that they were added in the reign of Ratu Kenya’s son Hayam
Wurook.
The edifice rose from a square base and large statues of Siva as Kala
adorn the feet of the staircases which lead to the first and second
terrace. Of the temple proper not a stone is left; the walls of pit and
terraces are covered with sculpture, a sort of griffins on the highest,
scenes from the _Ramayana_ and illustrations of other popular poems and
fables on the lower ones, beautiful work but irreparably damaged by
official bungling. As if the apathy which suffered this noble monument
to be despoiled and the providentially undemolished parts to crumble
away, had not done enough harm, an amateur invested with local authority
conceived a plan of restoration and preservation on official lines,
that beat even the methods of the art-connoisseurs of the chain-gang
to whom the care for the antiquities at Jogjakarta is entrusted,
which would make reconstruction impossible for all time to come and
deface the ornament in the thoroughest possible way. In obedience to a
Government resolution of June 22, 1900, Nr. 18, the Batavian Society
of Arts and Sciences having been consulted with a view to save the
_chandi_ Panataran from further decay, the Contrôleur in charge of the
administrative division within whose boundaries it is situated, engaged
native masons who, following their instructions, cemented, plastered and
whitewashed to the tune of fl. 989.10 (about £82) with the magnificent
result that the upper terrace has been transformed into a thickly
plastered reception-bower for picnic parties; that everything has
received a neat coat of whitewash to rejoice the hearts of housewives
out for the day with their husbands, little family and friends; that the
architectural detail has been hidden under solid layers of mortar and
cement. Plaster, whitewash and cement everywhere: the noses and other
extremities of the scanty statuary still in place but injured by time
and hand of man, have been touched up with it; from top to bottom it
has been smeared over whatever could be reached, making the venerable
old temple hideously ridiculous--an orgy of “conservation” in the
pernicious official acceptance of the word, hoary age being ravaged by
cheap, destructive “tidying up”. This is how the theory of Government
solicitude for the ancient monuments of Java works out in practice.
It must be considered a miracle or evidence of the native masons
possessing a higher developed artistic sense than their employer, that
the bas-reliefs have suffered less than this extraordinary process of
restoration and preservation portended, though much detail has been
destroyed, thanks to their vandalism under orders from Batavia as
understood by the Philistine of Blitar. In the first place we find
again, divided by medallions with representations of animal life, a
sculptural delineation of the _Ramayana_, the artist’s buoyant fancy,
blending the celestial with the human, shedding a divine light on acts
of most common daily occurrence by making gods and semi-gods partake
of man’s estate in deeds sublimely natural. The _Ramayana_ was a great
favourite for the decoration of temples, as proved by the _chandis_
Panataran, Toompang, Surawana and Prambanan; the _Mahabharata_ or,
rather, its Javanese version, the _Brata Yuda_, came as a good second;
the _Arjuno Wiwaha_ of the poet Mpu Kanwa has been put to use for the
embellishment of the _chandis_ Surawana and Toompang; the _Kersnayana_
for that of the _chandis_ Toompang and Panataran. We might do worse and,
in fact, we are doing worse with our insipid epitaphs and tasteless
lapidary pomposity in our cemeteries, than adorn the tombs of our great
departed with imagery taken from our poets, tellers of good tales and
fabulists, the life they knew so well aiding us to fathom death with
its mysteries and promises. The promise most cherished by the Hindu
Javanese was that personified in Siva: death to make new life grow and
increase in beauty among mortals feeding on happiness, by reason of
Kala’s breath destroying the misery of tottering old age, raising man to
equality with the gods. That is what the people, for whom the marvellous
ancient monuments of Java were built, loved to read in the masterpieces
of their literature, carved for their benefit on the mausoleums of their
kings, heeding the wise lessons for whoso chooses to reflect, of their
_Canterbury Tales_, _Faerie Queene_, _Paradise Lost_ and _Paradise
Regained_; their _Narrenschiff_, _Dil Ulenspigel_ and _Faust_; their
_Divina Commedia_ and _Decameron_; their _Romancero del Cid_ and _Conde
Lucanor_; their _nouvelles_ and _joyeux devis_, their _vies très
horrifiques_ of their Gargantuas and Pantagruels. Life in their thought
being intimately connected with death, which consequently inspired
nothing of the abject terror the practice of western Christianity
clothes it with, in curious contrast to the saving hope of its eastern
origin, we discern cheerfulness, the effect of serene meditation, the
true _amrita_, the rejuvenating nectar of self-existent immortality,
as the keynote also to sensible earthly existence in the infinitely
varied forms inviting our examination on the walls of the _chandi_
Panataran. _Greift nur hinein ins volle Menschenleben!_ If the beholder
be a philosopher or an artist, or both, desirous to grasp the full life
of man, he will receive rare instruction; and if a _lustige Person_ as
well, joy will accrue to him from the sempiternal relevancy of Javanese
allegorical humour, at times almost prophetic: the sculptor of the
pigheaded but self-satisfied peasant who cultivates his land with a
plow drawn by crabs,[99] must have had a vision of the Dutch Government
endeavouring, after periodical visitations of worse than customary want,
misery and famine, to secure progress and prosperity in the island by
appointing long commissions with long names, toiling long years over
long reports that leave matters exactly where they were.
The skies in the scenery of the bas-reliefs on the lowest terrace of
the _chandi_ Panataran have something very peculiar, termed cloud-faces
by Dr. Brandes, who recognised in the fantastic forms of the floating
vapour as reproduced in the hard stone, demons and animals to which he
drew special attention: a _kala_-head, a furious elephant threatening
to charge, etc. The figures of all bas-reliefs, mostly perhaps those of
the second tier from below, are notable for their departure from the
smooth treatment generally accorded to Javanese sculpture of the period
and best defined perhaps in the phrase of one of Canova’s critics when
he derided that artist’s “peeled-radish” style. Angular and flat, they
remind one of the _wayang_-puppets, and the obvious correspondence
between the manner in which the _chandi_ Panataran illustrates some
of the chief productions of Javanese literature and the performances
of the Javanese national theatre, has been cleverly insisted upon by
Rouffaer. The _wayang_, _i.e._ the dramatic art of the island, sprang
probably from religious observances of pre-Hindu origin. Dr. G. A.
J. Hazeu[100] is of opinion that it formed part of the ritual of the
ancient faith, and even now the _hadat_ requires a sacrifice, the
burning of incense, etc., before the play commences. The Javanese word
_lakon_, a derivation from _laku_, which signifies both “to run” and “to
act”, applied to stage composition, is the exact etymological equivalent
of our “drama”; the _lakon yèyèr_ (_layer_ or _lugu_) confines itself
to tradition, the _lakon karangan_ to subjects taken from tradition but
freely handled, the _lakon sempalan_ to episodes from works otherwise
unsuitable because of their length. The _wayang_ appears, according to
means of interpretation, as _wayang poorwa_ or _kulit_,[101] _gedog_,
_kelitik_ or _karucil_, _golek_, _topeng_, _wong_ and _bèbèr_, of which
the _wayang poorwa_ holds the oldest title to direct descent from the
ancestral habit of invocation of the spirits of the dead. The epithet
_poorwa_ has been derived from the _parwas_ of the _Mahabharata_
which, together with the _Ramayana_ and similar sources, offered an
abundant supply of dramatic material; it is from the _wayang poorwa_
that the Javanese people derive their notions of past events, as the
inhabitants of another island did theirs from their poet and playwright
Shakespeare’s histories before eminent actor-managers set to “improve”
upon his work, mutilating him on his country’s stage in the evolution
of a (fortunately more textual) interpretation, pointedly designated as
Shakespearian post-impressionism.
A _wayang poorwa_ performance knows nothing of the showy accessories
devised by and for our histrions to hide poverty of mentality and
poorness of acting, futile attempts to make up in settings, properties,
costumes and trappings, tailoring, millinery and disproportionate
finery what they lack in essentials. The performer sits under his lamp
behind a white, generally red-bordered piece of cloth stretched over a
wooden frame on which he projects the figures. He speaks for them and
intersperses explanations and descriptions, directing the musicians with
his gavel of wood or horn, striking disks of copper or brass to intimate
alarums, excursions, etc. Formerly all the spectators were seated
before the screen, as they still are in West Java, Bali and Lombok, but
gradually the men, separating from the women and children, moved behind,
so that in Central and East Java they see both the puppets and their
shadows. The _wayang gedog_, much less popular than the _wayang poorwa_,
evolved from it in the days of Mojopahit as Dr. L. Serrurier informs us;
while the latter draws its repertory principally from Indian epics, the
former with Raden Panji, Prince of Jenggala, for leading hero, is more
exclusively Javanese and prefers the low metallic music of the _gamelan
pelog_[102] to that of the _gamelan salendro_[102] with its high notes
as of ringing glass. In the _wayang kelitik_ or _karucil_, of later
invention and never of a religious character, the puppets themselves are
shown: since _wayang_ means “shadow”, the use of that word is here, for
that reason, less correct, and the same applies to the _wayang golek_
in which the marionettes lose their spare dimensions and become stout
and podgy; to the _wayang topeng_[103] and _wong_[104] in which living
actors perform, an innovation not countenanced by the orthodox, who
are afraid that such deviations from the _hadat_ may result in dread
calamities; and to the _wayang bèbèr_ which consists in displaying the
scenes otherwise enacted, in the form of pictures. Every one finds
in the _wayang_, of whatever description, an echo of his innermost
self: the high-born, smarting under a foreign yoke, in the _penantang_
(challenge and defiance), the lowly in the _banolan_ (farce), the fair
ones of all classes in the _prenesan_ (sentimental, gushing, spoony
speech). It is a treat to look at the natives, squatted motionless for
hours and hours together, their eyes riveted on the screen, listening
to the voice of the invisible performer, marvelling at the adventures
of the men and women who peopled the _negri jawa_ before them and
faded into nothingness, even the mightiest among them, whose mausolea
at Prambanan, Toompang, Panataran, bear witness to the truth of those
amazing deeds of derring-do, love and hate, which will remain the wonder
of the world. To them the phantom-shadows are reality of happiness in a
dull, vexatious life which is but the veil of death.
From Java, says Dr. Juynboll, the _wayang poorwa_ was transplanted to
Bali, where it is still called _wayang parwa_ and the puppets present
a more human appearance. Beside it thrives, especially in Karang Asam,
the _wayang sasak_, introduced from Lombok and more Muhammadan in
character, whose puppets have longer necks after the later Javanese
fashion. Apart from such influences, Balinese art, however, does not
disown its Hindu-Javanese origin. The inhabitants of the island, with
the exception of the _Bali aga_, the aborigines in the mountains,
different in many respects, pride themselves on the name of _wong_ (men
of) Mojopahit and adhere to the Brahman religion, though here and there
a few Buddhists may be encountered. They are divided into castes and
Sivaïte rites play an important part in the religious ceremonial of the
upper classes. The common people have adopted a sort of pantheism which
makes them sacrifice in the family circle to benevolent and malevolent
spirits of land and water, domiciled in the sea, rivers, hills, valleys,
cemeteries, etc. The village temples are more specifically resorted to
for propitiation of the _jero taktu_, a superior being entrusted with
the guidance of commercial affairs and best approached through the
guardian of his shrine, who is held in greater respect than the real
priests. Every village has also a house of the dead, consecrated to
Doorga, a goddess in high repute with those desirous to dispel illness,
to secure a favourable issue of some enterprise, to learn the trend of
coming events; the heavenly lady enjoys in Bali a far wider _renommée_
than her lord and master Siva, who is honoured in six comparatively
little-frequented temples. As to the decadent architecture and excessive
ornamentation[105] of the Balinese houses of worship, Dr. Brandes
considers both the one and the other a direct outcome of the decay of
the eastern Javanese style, exemplified in the _chandis_ Kedaton (1292),
Machan Puti,[106] Surawana and Tegawangi. The leading ideas of the
_chandi bentar_ or entrance gate, and of the _paduraksa_ or middle gate,
adduces Rouffaer, are related respectively to those of the gate Wringin
Lawang at Mojopahit and of what the present day Javanese call _gapura_
in sacred edifices as old _kratons_, old burial-grounds, etc.; and to
those of the gate Bajang Ratu, also at Mojopahit. These gates Wringin
Lawang and Bajang Ratu, states the same authority further, can teach us
moreover a few things anent the architecture of the _puris_ (palaces).
The temples and princely dwellings of Mataram in Lombok were completely
destroyed during the inglorious war of 1894; the country-seat of
Narmada, however, a fine specimen of an eastern pleasance, has escaped
demolition. For how long?
In this respect it seems relevant to point to the circumstance that the
monuments of the smaller Soonda islands, much more conveniently placed
for the unscrupulous spoiler because under less constant observation
of the general public, are exposed to even greater danger than those
in Java, Government supervision counting for worse than nothing. A
Batavia paper denounced quite recently a traveller who had been visiting
the Dutch East Indies and, armed with letters of recommendation from
personages of the highest rank and title in the Netherlands, had been
collecting curiosa and antiquities on a vast scale only to advertise his
collection for sale as soon as unpacked after his return to Europe. It
contained carved ornament from temples, sacrificial vessels and statuary
from Bali, besides woven goods, implements used in _batikking_, musical
instruments, _wayang_-puppets, etc. The profit attached to this sort of
globe-trotting is enormous, since the coveted objects can be acquired
for a mere song by taking advantage of the influential assistance
secured through letters of recommendation over high-sounding names.
A hint from those in authority goes a very long way with the docile
native, in fact goes the whole way of appropriation at a nominal value,
and the big official who left his post in the exterior possessions,
bound for home, also quite recently, with fifty boxes of antique ware of
a different kind, collected in his residency, made certainly as good a
haul as the distinguished, brilliantly recommended tourist.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[87]
So from the bones of those inhumed sing
The germs of life and of the spirits.
[88] Cf. Miss MARTINE TONNET’S article in the _Bulletin of the
Dutch Archaeological Society_, 1908, on the work of the Archaeological
Commission.
[89] Cf. Professor J. H. C. KERN’S paper on Sivaïsm and
Buddhism in Java apropos of the old Javanese poem _Sutasoma_, Amsterdam,
1888.
[90] The Pangerans of Giri continued for almost two centuries to
exercise their spiritual authority, opposing the supremacy of the
Princes of New Mataram until the Susuhunan Mangku Buwono II. had the
last of them assassinated with all the male members of his family
(1680).
[91] _Mojo_ means “fruit”, _pahit_ means “_bitter_”.
[92] _Kerto_ means “shining, glittering”.
[93] These dates are taken from Miss MARTINE TONNET’S paper in
the _Bulletin of the Dutch Archaeological Society_ already cited, where
she calls attention to the ardent religious life in that region at that
time, as also attested to by the zodiac-beakers, mostly unearthed in
Kediri and bearing dates between 1321 and 1369.
[94] More generally known as Giovanni da Bologna, though a native of
Douay.
[95] On the summit of the Wilis are four heaps of debris and two
enclosed terraces; on its eastern slope is a place of prayer, consisting
of three terraces with bas-reliefs and called Penampihan, where the
natives still congregate for sacrifice.
[96] _Borassus flabelliformis_ of the palm family, which, though hardly
used in these times of cheap paper as a provider of writing material,
serves the natives for a hundred other purposes.
[97] Two of the eight arms were already missing in 1815 to judge from
Raffles’ reproduction.
[98] See his article, _Pictorial Art in Asia_, in the _Contemporary
Review_ of May, 1911.
[99] Bas-relief on the remains of a small building detached from the
_chandi_ Panataran proper.
[100] _Bijdrage tot de Kennis van het Javaansche Tooneel._
[101] _Kulit_ means leather, the material of which the puppets are made.
[102] The _gamelan_, as already remarked, is the Javanese orchestra, and
besides the _gamelan salendro_ and the _gamelan pelog_, the _gamelan
miring_ should be mentioned, which varies from the former in the higher
pitch of one of the five notes as produced by some of the instruments.
The Kiahi Moonggang, a relic of mighty Mojopahit, the oldest, most
sacred and least melodious of the royal sets of _gamelan_ instruments,
is played every Saturday evening and so long as its tones fill the air,
all other _gamelans_ must remain silent. Cf. Dr. J. GRONEMAN,
_De Gamelan te Jogjakarta_.
[103] The _topeng_ actors are masked conformably to the meaning of the
word. Masques and masquerades seem to be of high antiquity in Java; the
_Malat_ of the _Panji_-cycle already mentions that kind of dramatic
entertainment.
[104] Utilised for prose works in the _langen driya_, devised by
Pangeran Arya Mangku Negara IV., and in the _langen asmara_, devised by
Prabu Widaya, a son of Paku Buwono IX.
[105] In Balinese decoration, writes Miss MARTINE TONNET (see
her article already cited), the _naga_- (or _kala-naga_-) seems to
flourish beside the _makara_-ornament.
[106] Lit. “white tiger”, situated in Banyuwangi.
[Illustration]