THE STONES OF THE BORO BUDOOR
... la vérité rendue expressive et parlante, élevée à la hauteur
d’une idée. ERNEST RENAN, _Vie de Jésus_ (_Introduction_).
The _pasangrahan_, built for the convenience of visitors to the
Boro Budoor, offers fair accommodation to the student of oriental
architecture and lover of art in whatever form. Also to a good many
who feel it incumbent on them to be able to say: “I have taken
everything in,” or who have quite other ends in view than communion
with the thought of distant ages: foreign tourists whose principal
care is to exhibit trunks and travelling-bags covered with labels of
out-of-the-beaten-track hotels while their brains remain hopelessly
empty; junketers of domestic growth, often in couples whose irregular
relations seek shelter behind the excuse of “doing” the island, and
heartily disinclined to practise the virtues preached in the reliefs
of the shrine of shrines, particularly down on continence. So even the
Philistines derive advantage, after the notions of their kind, from the
ramshackle fabric of vile heathenism, as this magnificent temple has
been called by one of their number, and its visitors’ book tells a sorry
tale of irreclaimable vulgarity; the wit, laboriously aimed at in many
entries, but widely missed, partakes altogether too much (minus the
element of _badinage_) of the answer given by a young naval officer to
an old aunt when she asked him where, in his opinion, the most striking
natural scenery of Java was to be found: At Petit Trouville,[143] said
he, on Sunday in the dry season.
The _pasangrahan’s_ guests of that ilk are generally no early risers and
their company is therefore not likely to mar the impression received
of the Boro Budoor at second sight after supper, supplied by the army
pensioner in charge of the place, and a night’s sound rest. Looking
tranquillity itself, the vast pile charms and soothes the heart,
notwithstanding its enormous size, before the intellect, scrutinising
its outline, begins to marvel at the unaccustomed form the builder has
chosen to proclaim his idea. Save one or two temples in _hinayanistic_
Burmah, which present a faint resemblance, nothing else can be named as
producing the same effect, but then, wrote Fergusson for the land where
the creed was born that inspired its founder, it must be remembered that
not a single structural Buddhist building now exists within the cave
region of Western India. Rising light and airy for all its grandeur, it
expresses more strength than a mere massing together of the ponderous
material in huge walls and buttresses and towers could have done; its
quiet consciousness of power is enhanced by its strange beauty of
contour in perfect harmony with its setting of living colour. There it
lies, clasping together the sapphire sky and the emerald garden of Java.
The _mahayanistic_ character of the Boro Budoor is well attested by
the Dhyani Buddhas among its statuary, despite the opinion of Siamese
connoisseurs, and by its further ornamental sculpture, of which more
anon. Meant for a reliquary, it may or may not be, in the absence of
historical proof pro or contra, one of the 84,000 _stupas_ consecrated
to receive and hold a fractional portion of the Indian Saviour’s remains
after King Asoka had opened seven of the depositories of his ashes in
the eight towns among which his remains were originally divided, to
make the whole world share in their blessed possession. Who has not
heard of the transfer, in the ninth year of the reign of Sirimeghavanna,
A.D. 310, of the Dathadathu, the holy tooth, from Dantapura to Ceylon,
where it became the _mascotte_, so to speak, the pledge of undisturbed
dominion to the rulers of the island who should control its guardians.
The sacrosanct yellow piece of dentin, about the length of the little
finger,[144] enclosed in nine concentric cases of gold, inlaid with
diamonds, rubies and pearls, is but rarely shown, far more rarely than
even the seamless coat at Treves, and then under conditions of excessive
adoration. But, notwithstanding all this pomp and circumstance, who that
has visited the Dalada Malagawa at Kandy and the Boro Budoor in Java,
can fail to prefer the latter, though sacrilegious robbers have carried
off its relic, leaving the desecrated shrine to decay.
The wordy war waged around the etymology of the name Boro Budoor, did
not solve the mystery of its origin; all derivations thus far suggested
are mere guess-work and unsatisfactory, whatever reasons be adduced for
Roorda van Eysinga’s explanation that it means an enclosed space, or
Raffles’ surmise that it is a corruption of Bara (the great) Buddha,
or the late King of Siam’s that it refers to the (spiritual) army of
the Buddha, if not to the several Buddhas, as alleged by others. One
of the oldest existing monuments in the island, the foundation of the
_chandi_ Boro Budoor has been attributed by native tradition to Raden
Bandoong, already known from the legends connected with the _chandis_
Prambanan and Sewu, who, as King of Pengging, assumed the name of
Handayaningrat. Professor Kern[145] puts the date of the substructure
at about 850, allowing several years for its completion--if ever it
was fully completed, for this temple, like the _chandi_ Mendoot near
by, the _chandi_ Bimo on the Diëng plateau and so many more, shows
traces of the work having been suspended before the decoration was quite
finished. Sculpture just commenced or little further advanced than the
bare outlining, found on the walls, especially of the covered base;
divers blocks of stone half transformed into ornament and statuary,
Dhyani Buddhas and lions, very illustrative of the methods followed at
different stages of the carving, lying forsaken on the slope and summit
of a neighbouring hillock, disclose an interruption of the labour by
some event of tremendous consequence.[146] Rather than accept the theory
that the ancient temples of Java were left intentionally defective from
religious motives, viz. to emphasise the sense of human imperfection
as an incentive to humility and prostration before the divine, we may
believe in the Merapi, that wicked old giant, having asserted himself in
one of his destructive moods, belching forth flames and ashes, shaking
and burying the handiwork of Hindu and Buddhist pygmies with strictest
impartiality. Standing on the first of the highest terraces on the south
side, says an article[147] in the _Javapost_ of December 5, 1903, one
observes a bulging out of the lower terraces, best accounted for by a
violent earthquake in a southerly direction. When the galleries were
cleared in 1814 and 1834, the volcanic character of the detritus which
filled them (ashes from the Merapi, wrote Roorda van Eysinga in 1850)
and also forms the substratum of the rubbish still unremoved from the
once enclosed grounds of the _chandi_ Mendoot, furnished strong evidence
in support of an eruption of the nearest fire-mountain having been the
cause of the precipitate flight, perhaps the death in harness, of the
builders. Of the preservation of their work too, in so far as finished,
for, to speak again with the writer in the _Javapost_, the very fact
of its having been embedded has saved much of its artistic detail;
and the reason why some of the sculptured parts are damaged to a far
greater extent than others adjoining, is probably that they were exposed
earlier and longer. Deterioration and demolition set in rapidly when
wind and weather began to ravage the wholly unprotected edifice, when
unscrupulous collectors wrought havoc unchecked.
The Boro Budoor was never hidden from view to the point of blotting
out its existence from memory. I shall have occasion to refer to
native chronicles mentioning it in the eighteenth century. To speak
of its rediscovery by Cornelius is therefore inaccurate though we owe
to that clever Lieutenant of Engineers, purposely sent to the Kadu by
Raffles, in 1814, the first scientific survey and description with
elucidating drawings. Except for the publication, in 1873, of Dr. C.
Leemans’ book with an atlas containing illustrations after drawings
by F. C. Wilsen, and the mission of I. van Kinsbergen to obtain
photographic reproductions of the reliefs, the Dutch Government left the
matchless temple entirely to its fate until very recently. An official
correspondence, kept trailing indefinitely to invest ministerial
promises regarding the antiquities of Java with a semblance of
sincerity, had the usual negative effect. Whenever a colonial Excellency
declared with unctuous pomposity that the most conscientious care would
be taken of the Boro Budoor, a monument of incalculable value considered
from the standpoint of science and art, most brilliant memento of the
island’s historic past, etc., etc., those versed in the phraseology
of Plein and Binnenhof at the Hague trembled in expectation of bad
news of criminal negligence, theft and mutilation to follow. The later
history of the “brilliant memento” agrees but too well with the ominous
prognostics derived from such dismal parliamentary fustian. A great
poet sang of things of beauty scarce visible from extreme loveliness:
the readily movable things of beauty constituting the loveliness of the
Boro Budoor, became invisible _sans phrase_. We are told in legendary
lore of statues which flew through the air to take domicile at enormous
distances from their proper homes, or vanished altogether, dissolving
into space: the statues of the Boro Budoor developed that faculty in an
astonishing degree; if handicapped by great weight or solid attachment
to the main structure, bent on travelling _à tout travers_, they sent
their heads alone to seek recreation and instruction in the varying ways
of the world, and their heads did never return, either because they
were amusing themselves too jollily away from the austerities of the
eight-fold path or because they found themselves unavoidably detained in
durance vile.
The remaining, mostly headless statues are sad to behold, and the fishy
account given of their defective condition, that, namely, the Buddhists,
beleaguered in the sanctuary by the Muhammadans, battling _pro aris
et focis_, drove the enemies off by bombarding them with the Lord of
Victory’s noble features, hewn in stone, smacks of a too ingenious
evasion of the disgraceful facts.[148] The chronicles are silent on such
a desperate struggle in that locality between the conquering hosts of
Islām and the followers of him who pleaded peace, love and goodwill,
whose doctrine and example alike forbade strife and armed resistance.
Not that there has been no fighting round and even within the walls of
the Boro Budoor among the Javanese engaged in internecine warfare and
during the insurrection of Dipo Negoro,[149] but the story of the using
up of the statuary in the shape of missiles, has no leg to stand on. In
the Java War (1825-1830) the Dutch troops erected a temporary fort near
the temple, but it is improbable that _chandi_ material entered into
its construction, not because the warriors of the Government would have
scrupled to destroy any ancient monument, but because the Boro Budoor
stones are exceedingly heavy and earthen fortifications amply sufficed
against native bands without artillery. Though cavalry in particular
never enjoyed a high reputation in respect of their relations to
art,[150] there does not seem to be any more substance in the confession
of a _ci-devant_ commander of a squadron of hussars, cited by Brumund,
that his men used to try the temper of their swords on the ears and
noses of the silent host of Dhyani Buddhas when the rebels of Sentot and
Kiahi Maja were not available.
The true misfortune of the Boro Budoor was official indifference and
negligence; and far more injurious than the fretting tooth of time or
even the merciless hand of the spoiler combined with the provoking
_laissez aller_ yawned in periodical circulars from the central
administration, from Sleepy Hollow at Batavia, was the dabbling in
archaeology of ambitious persons who posed as discoverers, the less
their aptitude to digest their desultory reading, the more arrogant
their cock-sureness where famous scholars reserved _their_ conclusions.
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing and might have proved disastrous
to the venerable temple in combination with one of their vaunted
discoveries, which established beyond doubt what not a few knew well
enough and never had doubted of, viz. that there was a gallery lower
than its lowest uncovered terrace, wisely filled up to increase the
stability of the building, very probably soon after or even before the
erection of the upper storeys. The removal of the supporting layers of
stone impaired, of course, the general condition of the structure and
the good news of its being again in its former state, was received by
many with a sigh of relief. This happened in 1885 with great flourish
of trumpets, and the only benefit derived, certainly not of sufficient
importance to balance the inevitable weakening of the foundations
attendant on such excavations, consisted in the bringing to light of
rude, scarcely decipherable inscriptions or rather scratchings,[151] and
the intelligence that of the photographed sculptures, in which, so far,
no representation of connected events has been recognised, twenty-four
are unfinished and thirteen damaged--six wholly smashed. In 1900 new
shafts were sunk for new discoveries of the long and widely known, and
while this pernicious dilettantism was going on, pseudo-archaeologists
vying with professed iconoclasts who should do most harm to the Boro
Budoor, the Government confined itself to antiquarian pyrotechnics at
the yearly debates on the colonial budget in Parliament.
[Illustration: XXVIII. BASE OF THE BORO BUDOOR SHOWING THE (FILLED UP)
LOWEST GALLERY
(C. Nieuwenhuis.)]
The Boro Budoor being undermined and gradually scattered to the four
winds, it was but natural that the natives, following the example set
by the elect, even by the elect of the elect acting in this or that
official capacity, who used, for instance, _chandi_ stones for the
flooring of the Government _pasangrahan_,--that the inhabitants of the
neighbouring _kampongs_ should carry off what appeared suitable for
their own ends, and the least heavy _jataka_ reliefs claimed their first
attention. So things went from bad to worse and the most disastrous
year, a veritable _annus calamitatis_ for the Boro Budoor, arrived with
1896, when the late King of Siam paid his second visit to Java. Much
interested, as was to be expected of a ruler of a Buddhist country,
in the Buddhist monuments of the island, so interested, in fact, that
his Majesty tried to put the _mahayanistic_ temples of the Kadu to the
credit of his own, the _hinayanistic_ church, his endeavours in this
kind of mental annexation inspired authorities, eager to share in the
honours of Siamese Knighthood (White Elephant, Crown of Siam, etc.)
distributed with right royal generosity, to urge him to annexation
in deed. If foreign visitors of little account had been permitted to
help themselves in a small way to “souvenirs” for a consideration to
keepers’ underlings left without control, why should foreign visitors
of distinction not be served wholesale? His Majesty Chulalongkorn, to
whom no blame attaches for gratifying his desire where he found Dutch
functionaries, high and low, more than willing to oblige, was invited to
make his choice and we must still thank him for his moderation, which
limited the quantity of sculpture selected to eight cart-loads: there is
scarcely a doubt that if he had requested them to pull part of the Boro
Budoor down in consideration of Knight Commander- or Grand Masterships
in this or that Order, the official conscience would have raised no
objection. This came to pass, of course, after a more than usually
fine flow, at the Hague, of ministerial rhetoric anent the priceless
heritage Holland has to protect in the “brilliant mementos of Java’s
historic past,” and the lover of ancient Buddhist architecture who wants
to make a study of its acknowledged masterpiece, must now of necessity
travel on to the banks of the Meynam to get an idea of some of its
most characteristic imagery, not to speak of fragments of ornament and
statuary removed by tourists of commoner complexion and dispersed heaven
knows where.
[Illustration: XXIX. DETAIL OF THE BORO BUDOOR
(C. Nieuwenhuis.)]
This instance of the ancient monuments of Java being officially
despoiled to please crowned heads and other visitors in exalted
stations, _pour le bon motif_, seemed so incredible that, when
I censured it in the Dutch East Indian Press, the Dutch Press,
over-zealous in hiding colonial enormities, also _pour le bon motif_,
considered it an easy task to deny, waxing eloquently indignant at the
denunciation until in regular, normal sequence, always observable
in the perennial case of Dutch whitewashing versus colonial boldness
of speech, the correctness of the statement could no longer be
assailed, new evidence accumulating steadily, Mr. J. A. N. Patijn,
for one, describing, in the _Kroniek_ and the _Tijdschrift voor
Nederlandsch Indië_, a collection displayed near the Wat Pra Keo at
Bangkok and brought thither from Java in 1896.[152] The frolicking
monkeys doubtless, the people of the large cheek-bones, represented
on some reliefs thus transferred, prompted an enthusiastic, genuine
archaeologist’s imprecation on the heads of the guilty official
and non-official toadies, inasmuch as he wished them, if there be
anything in the dogma of Karma, which provides for our sins being
visited on us in lives to come, that their least punishment might be
their transformation, when called to new birth, into apes abandoned
to ceaseless squabbles over their _kanari_-nuts (honours, dignities,
preferment with big salaries, fat pensions, etc.), clawing one another
with their sharp nails, to find at last that all the shells are
empty. Desisting from a profitless discussion on the possibilities of
retribution in a future existence, it requires to be stated that the
official mind needed several years’ reflection in this before reaching
the conclusion that really, in the matter of the conservation of the
Boro Budoor something more was wanted than the periodical outbursts of
gushing sentiment, grossly disregarded in practice, which are _le moyen
de parvenir_ of Dutch colonial politicians. The independents of the
colonial Press, however, had at last the satisfaction that Captain T.
van Erp of the Engineers was detailed to take the work of restoration in
hand, building himself a house in the shadow of the _chandi_ confided to
his care, anxious to direct the necessary labours on the spot. Stationed
there since August, 1907, his promotion to the rank of Major fortunately
did not result in the withdrawal of his services from the archaeological
field and, the climax of laxness with regard to the Boro Budoor having
been capped in the Siamese episode, brighter days may dawn for that
venerable edifice.
[Illustration: XXX. DETAIL OF THE BORO BUDOOR
(C. Nieuwenhuis.)]
One of the rooms of the _pasangrahan_, reserved, under the old
dispensation, for the storing of detached pieces of sculpture, was
called the sample-room because, according to current report, orders
were taken there for the delivery of such still undetached ornament
and statuary as might have struck the visitors’ fancy. Other images
lined the path from the _pasangrahan_ to the temple, among them two
Dhyani Buddhas, a fine Akshobhya and a still finer Amitabha, and lions,
the poor remainder of those which once adorned the steps leading to
the raised level of the building, whence the name: Avenue of Lions.
Seemingly commanded to descend from the places where they kept guard as
solitary sentinels, and to unite for defence at the point of greatest
danger, terrible havoc was wrought in their ranks by the onslaught
of souvenir-hunters, and one of their large-limbed, beautifully
chiselled chiefs, who himself watched the entrance with a vauntful air
as if proclaiming to foe and friend alike: _Et s’il n’en reste qu’un,
moi je serai celui-là_, had to suffer the ignominy of being captured
and carried off to Siam--which proves his Majesty Chulalongkorn’s good
taste: it was the best specimen of animal carving on that scale in
Java. These are no cheerful reflections when approaching the eminence
skillfully converted into a _stupa_ whose equal, both in originality
of design and cleverness of execution, can nowhere be found. Though
India furnished its prototype, the style here evolved baffles, on close
examination, all comparison. The only building it can be likened to is
the Taj Mahal at Agra, and only in this single respect while differing
in all others, that, conceived by a titanic intellect, the delicate
decoration suggests the minute precision of the jeweller’s craft.
Opening and closing a distinct chapter in architecture, this admirable
production rises in terraces which form galleries round the hill-top,
enclosed by walls, spaced on the outside by 432 niches for statues of
the Buddha with _prabha_ (aureole) and _padmasana_ (lotus cushion), on
the inside with representations illustrating sacred and profane writings
in bas-relief; the galleries of the superstructure raised on the
square ground-plan, become circular and are bounded by 72 bell-shaped
_chaityas_ containing statues of the Buddha without either _prabha_ or
_padmasana_, or any ornament whatever. The profuse decoration of their
surroundings never detracts from the powerfully expressed central
idea of praise to the Enlightened One, the one who has fulfilled his
end; the repetition of the motives manifesting the religious purpose,
directs rather than confuses the attention of the worshipper in their
multiformity of application. The spiritual father of the Boro Budoor
must have been a man of strong mental grasp, of honest masculine
endeavour stimulated by a highly sensitive temperament; his work, “a
goodly heap for to behold,” growing in dignity and beauty the closer
it is observed, a realisation of the sublimest aspirations of Buddhist
Java, will perpetuate also, as long as it can endure, the memory of his
own superior mind.
[Illustration: XXXI. DETAIL OF THE BORO BUDOOR
(Centrum.)]
The constructive ability of this gifted builder was no less wonderful
than his mastery of detail in aid of his main intent. A clever
system of drainage attests to the foresight of his workmanship; but
the gutters remaining filled up and the gargoyles (open-mouthed
_nagas_) choked after the excavation of the galleries in 1814 and
1834, without any one thinking of clearing them too, the water had to
flow off as best it could in the torrential rains of successive west
monsoons, filtering through the fissures between the stones, passing
down to the foundations and adding, in oozing out, to the causes of
decay by washing the supporting layers of earth and gravel away. The
staircases and passageways to the different terraces and galleries
are constructed with the accurate sense of right proportion which
distinguishes the natives of the island up to this day, and their
_naga_- and _kala-makara_ ornament belongs to the most impressive part
of the graceful decoration. In our ascent from lower to higher planes
of understanding, increasing in perception of the mysteries of life
and death, the Banaspati shows the road, the Hindu-Javanese Gorgon’s
head as Horsfield called it, appropriated by Buddhist architecture,
figurating the terrors of error it faces while budding forth in the
promise of further guidance for whoso shall leave the world’s delusions,
a loved wife, a young-born son, to seek the truth in pursuance of the
Buddha’s ordinance: no intimidation which threatens with the pains of
hell all who dare to disobey the dictates of priestly ambition, but an
assurance of beatitude gained by self-purification. The staircases of
the superstructure correspond with the four approaches leading up the
hillock to the temple-yard; in the course of the excavations, undertaken
to facilitate the work of restoration, one of them, very much out of
repair, has been laid bare. The reconstruction of the lower principal
staircase, whose original position has now been determined, will
result, it is hoped, in the removal of the unsightly flight of uneven
steps masquerading as the main entrance at the corner opposite the
_pasangrahan_; and, perhaps, to provide one worthy of site and building,
the Government will not haggle over the modest sum required for the
re-erection of the monumental gate whose remains were discovered
adjoining the balustrade of the spacious elevated platform.
On entering the galleries, establishing contact with this symmetrical
embodiment of highly spiritualised thought in the strongly knit language
of chiselled stone, to mount to the state of the perfect disciple,
spurred by the figured evolution of the four degrees of Dhyana which
lead to supreme happiness, the pilgrim must have experienced, as we do,
the sensation of physical well-being imparted by the splendour of nature
wrapping human longings in sunshine and the delicious odour exhaled
by mother earth. The luxurious emotion increases, despite nirvanic
chastening, and among the serene images of the higher terraces, who
can remain unmoved in contemplation of the ancient temple lifting its
dagob to the blue heaven, of its hoary walls touched by the golden
light, quivering in desire of sacred communion! Nor do we cease to
marvel when turning from the general idea of universal solidarity,
enunciated in an irreproachable architectural form, to the expository
details of decoration. The ornament accommodates itself with amazing
facility to the characteristic tendencies of the ground-plan, never
perverting the central purpose, which dominates in a most felicitous
combination of the two principles separately developed for western ends
in the classic and gothic styles: the horizontal expansion to allow
thinking space to the brain and the mystic pointing upward to satisfy
the cravings of the heart. Both found application in the Boro Budoor,
their unity of thought in diversity of expression being consolidated by
an inexhaustible wealth of imagery, elucidating accessories, filled as
it is “with sculptures rarest, of forms most beautiful and strange.”
Faithful in choice of subject and manner of representation to the
notions of its time, bodying forth things unknown to our age, the
ornament surprises by its fanciful invention and peculiar treatment,
though always in the best of taste. The heavy cornice which protects
the lowest uncovered tier of external, so far not yet satisfactorily
explained reliefs, carries the niches for the statues already mentioned.
The shape of these niches and of the temples delineated in the scenery
of the carved tales and legends, here as at Prambanan, Toompang, etc.,
afford us material assistance in determining after what model _chandis_,
long fallen into ruin, were built; they are especially helpful in
explaining the often puzzling arrangement of the superstructures, hardly
one being found, even among those best preserved, with the roof still
intact. Leaving archaeological problems alone, modern architects and
decorators can further derive a good deal of profit from a study of the
gradation observed in the downward radiation of both the architectural
and decorative conceit centred in the crowning dagob, or, rather, the
upward convergence in a nobly devised distribution of spaces connected
and entwined by cunning ornament, the luxuriant fantasy of the sculptor
being unerringly controlled by the staid design of the builder. A
fervent imagination may revel in miles of bas-reliefs without surfeit,
the salutary restraint of a sober outline and a proportional disposition
of the component parts being such that the eye never gets tired or the
faculty of perception cloyed.
Fergusson, pointing to the identity of workmen and workmanship in the
sculpture and details of ornamentation at the Boro Budoor and at Ajunta
(cave 26), Nassick (cave 17), the later caves at Salsette, Kondoty,
Montpezir and other places in that neighbourhood, computes that at the
former the decoration extends to nearly 5000 feet, almost an English
mile, and, as there are sculptures on both faces, we have nearly 10,000
lineal feet of reliefs. They numbered 2141 in all, counting what
is damaged and altogether lost, but omitting the decoration of the
ornamental niches: on the lowest wall 408 in the upper and 160 in the
lower tier outside, 568 inside; on the second wall, 240 outside and 192
inside; on the third wall, 108 outside and 165 inside; on the fourth
wall, 88 outside and 140 inside; on the fifth wall, 72 inside. Regarding
their noble qualities of style and decorative value as a component
of the general project, the opinion of a writer in the _Quarterly
Review_[153] may be quoted, who discusses the Boro Budoor’s straight
lines, its untroubled spaces of flat stone, its mouldings of classic
simplicity, its intricate and elaborate bands of ornament, held in place
by the nice choice of relief, being low and unaccented, in opposition
to the deep cutting and full modelling of the panels they surround; and
in these panels, he continues, in spite of the full roundness of the
modelling and the wealth of ornamental detail, the unity is maintained
by a fine sense of rhythm and discreet massing and spacing. The upper
tier of carvings on the inner wall of the first gallery, haut-reliefs
in contradistinction to the rest, represents the life of the Buddha
from his birth until his death and is the best preserved. Many of the
others have suffered so badly that they baffle explanation; taken on
the whole, they treat of traditional occurrences in connection with
the Buddha himself or his predecessors, of gatherings under bo-trees,
pilgrimages to reliquaries, alms-giving, exhortations to observe the
law, admonitions to virtue: abstinence, tolerance and charity. Animal
fables are interwoven with _jataka_-tales, _i.e._ narratives concerning
the Buddha before he appeared as the perfect man, tracing his path to
holiness in his adventures as a hare, a fish, a quail, a swan, a deer,
the king of monkeys, an elephant, a bull, a wood-pecker, a tortoise,
the horse Balaha, every metamorphosis serving to illustrate his zeal
to sacrifice himself for his fellow-creatures and, incidentally,
stimulating the kindness we owe to our poor relations without the
power of speech. Professor Speyer’s translation of legends collected
in the _Jatakamala_ (wreath of _jatakas_) enables us to recognise in a
good many of the reliefs of the Boro Budoor the successive stages of
the Buddha on the road to supreme excellence, the figuration of his
progress being largely influenced by ancient Hindu folk-lore.
[Illustration: XXXII. DETAIL OF THE BORO BUDOOR
(C. Nieuwenhuis.)]
If Ruskin compared St. Mark’s at Venice so aptly with a vast illuminated
missal, bound with alabaster instead of parchment, studded with porphyry
pillars instead of jewels, and written within and without in letters of
enamel and gold, in the Boro Budoor, a sacred book of volcanic stone,
the life of the Buddha, before and after he became a son of man and
man’s saviour, lies opened before us: the flowery earth and the shining
heaven are its binding; Surya, the sun himself, gilds and enamels the
letters, the images which, in their sculptured frame, not too deeply
cut and not too rich for a setting, but precisely adequate, tell to all
creatures the story of wisdom and elevation of spirit. The illustration
of the _Lalita Vistara_ occupies, as already mentioned, the upper tier
of the inner wall of the first open gallery. Walking round in the proper
direction, _i.e._ keeping the dagob to the right while moving with the
sun, we have first a few introductory scenes, leading up to the Buddha’s
advent and preparing us for the mystic teachings of an imagery which
expands simply and naturally between the flowing lines of harmonious
ornament and speaks to the heart as does the sound of running water or
the soughing of the wind in the tree-tops. Immediately after his birth,
rising from the white lotus-flower which has sprung from the earth at
the place touched by his feet, Siddhartha, in token of his power over
the several worlds, paces seven steps to each of the cardinal points
and to the abode of sin, announcing his mission: I shall conquer the
Prince of Darkness and the army of the Prince of Darkness; to save those
plunged into hell, I shall cause rain to descend from the huge cloud
of the law and they will be filled with joy and happiness. He grows
and marries and leaves his father’s palace, moved by the misery of the
lowly and lost, to gather knowledge as Sakyamuni, until, compassing
all wisdom, he becomes impersonated truth and the great renunciation
takes place. The closing scene refers to his death, to the adoration of
the mortal remains of the immortal Tathagata, symbolising his course
among men not as a succession of past acts but as a constant one to
be imitated by whoso desires the reward. Increasing in excellence of
design and execution the nearer we approach the Holy of Holies, the
touching tale of a life of sacrifice is told with that straightforward
simplicity of which only the consummate artist possesses the secret.
All appears so human and real, so inspiringly animated by the extreme
of vital motion, to use an oriental expression, the individuality of
the figures being always preserved in minutest personal detail without
the least affectation. Plastic triumphs, emphasising the lessons of the
sacred books, bring up unto us the people of _jaman buda_, heroes tall
and strong as palm-trees, virgins lithe and slender as bambu-stems,
with drooping eyes, shrinking from a too inquisitive gaze, with limbs
modelled as if they would tremble under the pressure of a caressing
hand.
[Illustration: XXXIII. DETAIL OF THE BORO BUDOOR
(C. Nieuwenhuis.)]
The statues, watching the ascent of the seeker of purification, second
the impulse received from the reliefs by their tranquil composure,
that is in so far as they remained at their stations, for their ranks
are sadly thinned. Aspiring to the holiness figured in the images of
the higher terraces, to the priceless boon of the Nirvana as final
blessing, the Dhyani Buddhas, sunk in meditation, girding themselves
with virtue, longing for the ecstasies vouchsafed to the Adi-Buddha’s
meditation, reflect the five salient features of his understanding, as
indicated by their gestures. Divided into three or twice three groups,
according to the position of their hands, and in intimate relationship
with their Bodhisatvas, Vajrochana, Akshobhya and Ratnasambhava are
supposed to have swayed, during thousands of years, the three worlds
which successively disappeared, as Amitabha, whose Bodhisatva is
Padmapani, sways since twenty-four centuries the present world, in
closest spiritual union with the historical Buddha, to be succeeded
by Amoghasiddha, whose Bodhisatva is Vishvapani, the ultimate Buddha,
the Buddha of universal love. Facing the four cardinal points and
the zenith, they sit with crossed legs,[154] clothed in a thin robe
which leaves the right shoulder and arm bare, and have the distinctive
protuberance of the skull, generally also the _oorna_, the symbol of
light, be it then produced by the sun or by lightning. A sixth Buddha,
represented by the statues of the fifth and highest wall, is supposed
to refer to a power which dominates the other five, swaying in last
resort the destinies of all worlds without exception; but this theory
still needs confirmation. The statues of the circular terraces stood, or
rather sat, in bell-shaped _chaityas_, four to five feet high, capped
with tapering key-stones which carry conical pinnacles--no _lingas_,
though this oft recurring motive of Hindu decoration may have suggested
the idea. These _chaityas_, 72 in number[155] and for the greater part
in ruin, shattered shells of sanctity, were closed all round and the
images inside, without aureoles, like the Buddhas lower down, only
visible through openings in the form of lozenges. Their peculiar contour
has led to the conjecture that they were constructed after the holy
_padma_ or lotus-flower, a hypothesis to which their _padmasana_-like
bases and the numerous peepholes, which might figurate empty seed-lobes,
lend some colour. Of the 72 Buddhas they protected, eighteen are wholly
lost and no more than ten escaped grievous hurt.
[Illustration: XXXIV. A DHYANI BUDDHA OF THE BORO BUDOOR
(Cephas Sr.)]
Winding our way upward, passing through the galleries whose profound
silence, imbued with the intensely religious spirit radiating from their
sculptured walls, becomes more and more eloquent; circling the terraces
where the attitude of ecstatic elation of the world’s pre-eminently
venerable ones in their _chaityas_ exalts the mind in tremulous
expectation, we arrive at the dagob, the shrine of shrines, the temple’s
coronet, glittering in the bright glow of day. This is the reliquary
proper, the centre into which the holiness of the hallowed building
converges. It rises, similar to the smaller cupolas, but perpendicular
to a height of several feet, from a substructure in the guise of a
lotus cushion; it was also closed round about, without any aperture
so far as can be concluded from its present state, for a portion of
it has tumbled down and the base of the crowning pinnacle, reached by
ill-matched, rickety steps, a recent, outrageously discordant addition,
serves for a bench, the whole, about 25 feet above the topmost terrace,
having been transformed into a crude belvedere, enabling visitors to
enjoy the magnificent view. The interior space seems originally to
have been divided into an upper and a lower chamber; there is nothing
deserving mention in the matter of decoration save an inscription to
remind posterity of the late King of Siam’s visit in the disastrous year
1896--a delicious memorial, at the same time, of official vandalism and
servility. The golden letters affect one unpleasantly in the spoliated
sanctum, whose ruinous condition dates from a previous call, some
sixty or seventy years ago, permitted if not encouraged by previous
authorities, when looting pseudo-archaeologists broke into it and
carried off the relic, which consisted, assuming the credibility of
local reports regarding their disappointment, in a small quantity of
ashy substance, enclosed in a metal urn with lid; furthermore in a
small image of metal and a few coins. The large statue they unearthed
too, would have impeded the movements of the marauders on their return
voyage and so it remained in place, half hidden in the hole they had
dug, undisturbed, for the same reason, by subsequent collectors. Left
unfinished by its sculptor, designedly or not,[156] resembling in the
position of its hands the Dhyani Buddhas which face the East, does it
personify the Adi-Buddha, a purely abstract entity, a metaphysical
conception hitherto defying even symbolic utterance? The learned and
especially the quasi-learned never lacked weighty arguments pro or
contra, and, without prejudice to all they proved and disproved,[157] it
does not appear improbable that the lively imagination of the Javanese
artist aimed at a tangible expression of him who ran his course as the
spirit and source of the Buddhist conception of happiness, resuscitated
from his ashes, dominating East and West, North and South, the blissful
abode of those progressing in self-negation and the infernal regions
of prolonged earthly existence, by the strength of the divine rays
proceeding from the _oorna_, illumining the path trodden by the virtuous
toward annihilation, terrifying the children of darkness, dwellers in
passion and sin, pervading all creation with his saintliness, the one of
the Paranirvana whose essence flowers in the beauty of the Boro Budoor.
And the Moslim native worships him as the god of his ancestors, caught
in stone; smears him with _boreh_ and performs acts of sacrifice before
him in spite of the Book fulminating against idolaters and of the almost
contemptuous familiarity intimated by the otherwise very appropriate
nickname bestowed on this heterodox deity, namely _recho belèq_, which
means “statue in the mud”.
[Illustration: XXXV. RELIEFS OF THE BORO BUDOOR
(C. Nieuwenhuis.)]
The work of restoration, started with excavations and the removal of
heaps of accumulated debris, has led to important discoveries, also in
relation to the dagob. Among shattered _naga_-gargoyles, antefixes,
carved detail of every description, fragments have been found of a
triple _payoong_, an ornament in the form of a sunshade which capped
it; of a statuette supposed to have adorned its second storey, the
upper compartment of the cella. To quote from Major van Erp’s last
published report,[158] the excavations shed new light on the design
of some minor parts of the building, the decoration, _e.g._, of the
lowest three staircases on each of the four sides; notwithstanding the
existing drawings, the _kala-makara_ motive seems to have entered into
the ornament of the entrance gate in the principal outer wall; the
design of the balustrade which enclosed the platform of the temple
and disappeared altogether, has been determined and a portion of it
will be rebuilt to show how things must have looked; slabs belonging to
the different series of bas-reliefs, mostly of the _jataka_ variety,
have been unearthed or detected in neighbouring _kampongs_. Especial
care is taken to retrieve those missing from the upper tier in the
first gallery: if the recovered reliefs are not always complete, the
recognisable principal figure explains generally the idea which the
sculptor intended to convey, with sufficient clearness to be grasped by
the trained archaeologist. And as to the rest of the detached pieces of
architectural value, dug up or otherwise revealed to the searching eye,
the symmetric unity of the Boro Budoor is such that place and position
of each component part, however subordinate in the mighty fabric, are
easily ascertained. Every new find discloses new excellence, so far
undreamt of, in the constructive ability of the master-builder whose
illuminated brain conceived the idea of this temple wherein he wrote the
history of a religion,
_Whose goodly workmanship far past all other,
That ever were on earth, all were they set together._
His name is unknown, though native fancy, descrying his likeness in the
profile of the Minoreh mountains, a fine conceit worthy of his genius,
has baptised him Kiahi Guna Darma. Another tradition calls him Kiahi
Oondagi and makes him chisel the statue which, up to the time of the
late King of Siam’s visit in 1896, stood near the _pasangrahan_, facing
a damaged Amitabha and seemingly heartening the diminishing ranks of the
lions mounting guard. It had been brought thither from a place known
as Topog, about a mile distant, and was certainly a portrait-statue,
beautifully cut and with its extraordinarily clever features a rare
work of art. The story goes that, like Busketus, the architect (with
Rainaldus) of the Duomo at Pisa, his dearest wish was to have his
remains carried to rest under the stones of the edifice he had raised to
the honour of the unseen; that, baffled in his hopes and reincarnated
after his death because of some venial offence which made him fail in
attaining the Nirvana too, he fashioned this effigy to be set up at
the entrance of his _magnum opus_, anticipating an idea of the equally
nameless artist who put the Byzantine stamp on San Marco in Venice. It
is an additional proof of the late King Chulalongkorn’s discrimination
in favour of the very best that, making the permitted choice, his
Majesty included Kiahi Oondagi, but O! the official cringing and the
little piety shown to the memory of the illustrious labourer who wrought
this wonderful monument.
[Illustration: XXXVI. ASCENDING THE BORO BUDOOR
(Cephas Sr.)]
On the hillock of Topog, the _deva agoong’s_ primitive home, two
wash-basins in the form of _yonis_, one of them of colossal dimensions
and resting on a crouched figure, testify to the worship of Siva’s
_sakti_, the female principle of life personified in the Mahadeva’s
Devi. Hindu motives in the ornament of the Boro Budoor avouch syncretism
having influenced the highest expression of Buddhism itself: there is
a four-armed image with _padmasana_ and _prabha_, which, carrying a
Buddha in its _makuta_, may hint at Vishnu’s ninth _avatar_; there is a
four-armed figure seated on a throne supported by Siva’s _vahana_, the
bull; there is a goddess crowned with five _trishulas_; etc. All this
illustrates again native tolerance in matters of religion as in other
respects, a result of the ancient habit of the Javanese in particular,
to meet widely different races and civilisations half-way, which has
preserved them from the narrow-mindedness consequent on isolation, as
observed by a scholar who knows them well and whose study of special
subjects has in nowise impaired his breadth of vision.[159] The
modification of this easy-going temperament in contact with western
greed, offers abundant food for thought when we return to the cool
cave of refuge from passion where the _recho belèq_ symbolises deep
contemplation and meditation terminating in absorption of self by
participation of the Spirit of the Universe, under the gaudy memorial
tablet, _Koning van Siam: 1896_, which, in its glaring incongruity,
symbolises the inverted process.[160] The feeling of annoyance it
produces, soon passes when the mind begins to expand with admiration of
the scene of calm splendour beheld from the dagob containing the pollen
of the lotus of the law. The hues and harmonies of evening dispose to a
quietude nowhere else experienced or enjoyed in that measure. The only
sound heard is a faint humming of insects circling the pinnacles of the
_chaityas_ which divide the panorama of the plain below into views of
separate interest and beauty, bounded by the graceful outline of the
terraces and the distant hills. Ricefields and palmgroves stretch as
far as the eye can reach, with villages between, sheltered by their
orchards, earth’s tapestry, embroidered in all gradations of green from
that of the sprouting _bibit padi_ of the young plantations to that of
the thick foliage of centenarian _kanaris_. The shadow of the temple,
kissing the drowsy eyelids of the Kadu, lengthens towards the Merapi
over whose crater, gilt by the setting sun, hangs a cloud of dark smoke
which drifts slowly in the direction of the Merbabu, while the Soombing,
to the northeast, looks tranquilly on. The darkness, ushered by the
smoke of the ill-tempered old fire-mountain, mingling with the pink and
purple of the western sky, spreads over the land, envelops forests and
gardens in gray, hushing all that breathes to sleep. One parting smile
of the sun’s gladness and night descends in her sable robes. Nothing
stirs; the toils of day are forgotten in wholesome repose; it is the
hour of Amitabha, ruler of the region of sunset and spiritual father
of the present world’s ruler, the one whose hands rest in his lap
after the completion of a laborious task. Morning will come and in time
the creation of a new world, the world of loving-kindness, Vishvapani’s,
the Metteya Buddha’s own--in time, long time! A _gardu_[161] strikes
seven; another answers immediately with eight strokes on the
_beloq_;[161] far away no more than six respond,--what is time to the
native! Silence reigns again, silence emphasised by the high-pitched
notes of a _suling_,[162] quavering indistinctly as the evening breeze
speeds the lover’s complaint or refuses its aid. A noise of revelry in
the _pasangrahan_ distracts the attention from this tuneful courtship;
the visionary beings that were taking life from the germ of thought
hidden in its shrine, petrify into mute statues or vanish altogether:
the spell of the Boro Budoor is broken.
[Illustration: XXXVII. REACHING THE CIRCULAR TERRACES OF THE BORO BUDOOR
(Cephas Sr.)]
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[143] Such is the name given to a stretch of beach, not far from
Tanjoong Priok, the harbour of Batavia, much resorted to, for bathing
and advertisement, by that city’s frail sisterhood, and Batavians will
appreciate the young naval officer’s _bon mot_ better than did his aunt,
a provincial spinster, when at length she fathomed it.
[144] A description, dated October 12, 1858, informs us that the piece
of ivory, supposed to have garnished the jaw of Gautama, is about the
size of the little finger, of a rich yellow colour, slightly curved in
the middle and tapering. The thickest end, taken for the crown, has a
hole into which a pin can be introduced; the thinnest end, taken for the
root, looks as if worn away or tampered with to distribute fragments of
the relic.
[145] Reports and Communications of the Dutch Royal Academy, 1895.
[146] According to another explanation these incompleted pieces of
sculpture, found lying about, were rejected in the building because they
did not come up to the architect’s requirements.
[147] _The Ruin of the Boro Budoor or Vandalism_, signed GOENA DARMA.
It is no indiscretion, I believe, to reveal behind this significant
pseudonym Father P. J. HOEVENAARS, of whose sagacious observations
I shall avail myself repeatedly in the following account of the
temple’s history.
[148] Invention being stimulated by quasi-historical novels like
GRAMBERG’S _Mojopahit_.
[149] Vide _De Java-Oorlog_, commenced by Captain P. J. F. LOUW,
continued by Captain E. S. DE KLERCK and published under the auspices
of the _Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences_, vols. i. and ii.
[150] This holds good for western as well as eastern lands and,
whether true or false, the story of Napoleon’s dragoons converting the
refectorium of Santa Maria delle Grazie at Milan into a stable and
adjusting their horses’ mangers against da Vinci’s _Cena_, expresses
very well what cavalry on the warpath are capable of.
[151] The form of the characters, etc., according to Professor
KERN, points to about the year 800 Saka (A.D. 878).
[152] See also the _Westminster Review_ of May and _The Antiquary_ of
August, 1912.
[153] ROGER FRY on _Oriental Art_, January, 1910.
[154] In the position called _silo_ by the natives, but with the body
straight, not bent forward.
[155] The lowest circular terrace has or ought to have 32, the second or
middle one 24, the highest and last 16 of them.
[156] M. A. FOUCHER points out in the _Bulletin de l’Ecole
Française d’Extrême Orient_, iii., that the Chinese pilgrim Hiuen
Tsiang found another unfinished statue in the Mahabodhi temple near the
Bo-tree of Enlightenment, a statue which, according to the description,
represented the Buddha in the same position, his left hand resting in
his lap, his right hand hanging down, etc.
[157] The literature concerning this statue, says GOENA DARMA
in the _Javapost_ of December 5, 1903, is extensive and rich in curious
conjectures but poor as to scientific value.
[158] Proceedings of the _Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences_,
January 11, 1910.
[159] Professor Dr. C. SNOUCK HURGRONJE, _Nederland en de
Islām_.
[160] Since this was written, the information reached me that the _recho
belèq_ has been taken out of its hole to give it a place somewhere
in the temple grounds where it will be open to inspection, which the
reconstruction of the dagob would have made impossible if left in its
original station. The sacrilege may be condoned to a certain extent if
it implies the disappearance of the tablet intended to keep alive the
memory of the disastrous royal visit.
The illustration opposite page 280 shows the upper terraces and the
dagob after their restoration: the pinnacle of the dagob having been
reconstructed with its crowning ornament, this was afterwards taken away
because of some uncertainty as to its original arrangement.
[161] _Gardus_ are guard-houses erected for the accommodation of the men
who take their turn in watching the roads at night; near the entrance of
each hangs the _beloq_ (block), a piece of wood which, being hollow, is
beaten with a stick to proclaim the hour or to signal fire, amok, the
appearance of _kechus_ (armed thieves), etc.
[162] The Javanese reed-pipe.
[Illustration]