After having walked through the umbrageous _kĕnari_-avenue and the
village of _Bårå_ which we meet on our way when starting from the dukuh
of _Bråjånålå_, we shall arrive within half an hour at the hill upon
which we see stand the pasanggrahan, and the colossal ruin. By carriage
in less than a quarter of an hour.
The first sight of this wonder of architecture is a rather disappointing
one because, when standing at the end of the avenue, we only perceive
the outer-walls of its south-easterly angle.
But this becomes quite otherwise as soon as we have reached the top of
the hill, and got out of our carriages in front of the mentioned
pasanggrahan lying opposite the north-west corner of the ruin, but which
has been built as high as its foot. We then overlook the enormous mass
of stone gradually developing itself in majestic lines and forms, in all
the terraces, following each other in a regular range of succession till
we see rise in their centre the high cupola now covered again by a cone
with three sun-shades[15].
If we want to understand the overwhelming beauty of this ruin we must
first try to know the whole in its different parts, and best of all,
examine to what purpose this work of art had been produced by the
Buddhists of Central Java who are said to have existed there more than
eleven centuries ago.
I suppose that, when their predecessors left India for Java, they are
likely to have brought a vase or urn containing some real or pretended
ashes of the Buddha himself in order to bury them under a simple hill or
in an artless _dagob_ as soon as they had reached the place of their
settling, to render these ashes to the worship of the believers, and to
make them suppose as if this hill or cairn were the real grave of the
Master himself.
[Illustration: The Tyanḍi Båråbudur (N. W. front).]
But after a lapse of an uncountable number of years or, perhaps some
centuries, this colony became a large and powerful empire, and—just as
the Christians first assembled in grottoes or catacombs, and afterwards
built churches rich and magnificent like St. Peter’s at Rome, and the
Cologne cathedral—the Buddhists also disregarded their simple cairn, and
wanted something better, something more worthy and beautiful, in
consequence of which they built a _dagob_ large and in solemn style,
surrounded by many gradually descending terraces, walled in and covered
with sculptures abundantly hewn, which was to speak, with the clearness
of plastic art or in the poetic language of symbolism, of the Master and
his doctrine, of the Redeemer and redemption, of life’s insufficiency
and of victory after death.[16]
He who would approach this dagob to sacrifice his flowers to the Buddha,
to meditate his life there, and perhaps, to utter his homage in a
prayer[17] was obliged to mount all these terraces, and walk along these
sculptures which became, as it were, a revival of the Buddha and his
doctrine which taught him the dissolving in the _nirvâna_, the
approaching of the infinite _not-to-be_ as the end purpose of all life,
and the deliverance of all the miseries of a sensual existence[18].
Many a sculpture reminded him there that self-conquest, self-command,
singleness and purity of heart, veracity and meekness, and the love for
all beings, either man or beast, were to lead him to that final purpose.
And if not blind with his eyes open, he reached at last the Master’s
grave in a frame of mind so pure and noble, so serious and well-meant
that the pilgrimage itself became a step on the right path.
But not always, and not to every one.
For even the impressions received there were of a transient kind, and it
may be that many a one who went there for form’s or appearances’ sake
only, remained as insensible of these impressions as he was of the
majestic vista the highest terraces displayed deep down and far off on
the surrounding mountains, valleys and plains, a view most astonishing,
and culminating in the satisfaction of mounting the ruin even at this
day.
Let us now follow the way the pilgrim took, and mount the hill which
carries this heavy mass of stone.
Standing on the small plain at its north-west corner, in front of the
_pasanggrahan_ where we now find comparatively nice accommodation, and
where once may have stood the cloister or dwelling of the monks who took
care of the _stûpa_, we overlook the whole scene: a polygonal mass of
dark-grey stone, a chaos of dome-shaped roofs and cones, of re-entering
walls and projecting frame work, crowned by a higher situated
middle-cupola the lost cone of which van Erp renewed after the copy of
found fragments, but which was afterwards removed again.
We approach and ascend the outer-terrace, a tridodecahedral or rather a
quadrangle, each side projecting twice outside in the shape of a
rectangle, and encircling the equally polygonal temple.
This terrace has nothing to do with the original style of building. For
about two yards deeper there lies another one, formerly extending three
yards farther to outside, but now for the greater part hidden under a
burden of 5500 cubic metres of stone[19].
Supposing now this lower terrace to be some two yards deeper on, we then
arrive at the (probably) original outer terrace; but as its uncovered
outer part has been lost since, we now can’t possibly ascertain its
bounds.
When, according to my schematism offered to the Dutch Government by the
board of directors of the “_Oudheidkundige Vereeniging_”, the upper
series were dug up (1890) and the _lower-part_ of the ruin’s outer wall
had been uncovered, we found there heavy frames and bands, and
underneath a series of 160 images much better hewn than the
demi-relievoes, and for the greater part well preserved under their firm
covering. Some years ago we had not the slightest idea of their
existence. I proposed the Dutch Government to have them photographed so
that they now have come within the range of the study of
archaeologists[20].
It therefore appears that the first outer-terrace must have been twice
heightened at its original foot, that is, before the last planned
imageries had been entirely finished at its foot or hardly sketched.
And this must have been done by the Buddhists themselves to assure,
perhaps, firmer foundations to the whole building[21].
But let us now return to the outer-terrace we mounted. In former times
it must have been surrounded by a heavy breast-work which now has
disappeared altogether.
In the centre of each side this parapet was replaced by the upper step
of a staircase on two sides closed in by means of heavy banisters.
The banisters of such stairs ended into _nâga_ heads with turned
elephant’s trunks and gave entrance to the lower heightening.
Out of all still existing stairs, and upon those we now find ourselves
there are other ones leading over all the higher terraces to the large
middle-dagob we can still reach along this path without being obliged to
walk all round these galleries, and without passing the imageries
standing there.
On our first way we therefore only walk about part of the outer-terrace,
along the north- and half east-side, and it is on _this_ side that we
shall mount the stair which will bring us to the very first gallery
(also walled in on its outside) on the second terrace. And we shall find
there the starting-point of _four_ different series of alto-relievoes of
which some prepare each other in regular succession.
Yet, these imageries, more or less reviving the heavy outer-wall _above_
the outer terrace, and consequently standing comparatively high above
the _lower series_ we uncovered in 1890 (now covered again) don’t tell
us any story or legend, but allude to symbolical ornaments only.
Notwithstanding, they can’t be said to be without sense, though we may
not readily understand them.
They represent numberless, but continually modified repetitions of some
motives: a man seated near an incense-offering or a flower-vase, and a
man standing between two women, nymphs or servants; both scenes every
time separated by a single woman’s image provided with a lotus or
another symbol. This lotus may refer to female _Bodhisattvas_, otherwise
I should be inclined to think of _apsarasas_ or celestials, because I
don’t see any reason for so many _Bodhisattvîs_. And yet, why not,
provided that they are not taken as personal, legendary or historical
_Bodhisattvîs_.
Don’t we also find them in other ruins (_tyanḍi Parambanan_, and _tyanḍi
Sévu_), and in the _Sari_ and _Pĕlahosan_ cloisters?[22].
And on the top of the heavy cornice covering these imageries, stand—or
formerly stood—from distance to distance, just above the sacrificers,
small temples of a completely similar form, each of them containing a
deep niche, wherein a Buddha image on a lotus-throne provided with the
_prabha_ or disc behind his head.
A square spire with screen-shaped stories reminding us of the Siam
pagodae or of some _tyaityas_ also represented on the imageries of our
temple, crowned each small temple which had been flanked by two wings
with similar but lower spires. And between every two small niche-temples
stood—or stands—, just above the groups of the three small images, an
altar-shaped stone-block, covered by a bell-shaped _dagob_ which has or
had been crowned with a conical column.
The _front_ part of each of these dagob-pedestals has been adorned with
a sitting man’s or woman’s image with a flower-vase or an
incense-offering, or with both of them.
The _back_ parts of these niche- and dagob temples formed—and they
partly still form—an (formerly) uninterrupted cornice which carried the
small spires and the dagobs, and beneath, a single wall-opening which,
following all the re-enterings of the tridodecahedral, was only
interrupted by the four doorways which showed us a repetition (on a
larger scale) of the small niche-temples.
These stairs were and _are still_ the weak points of the architecture.
Dissimilar as they are in height and depth of the steps, they sometimes
occupy the greater part of the floor of the surrounding galleries. Even
the doorways once covering them from terrace to terrace, but which now
have for the greater part disappeared, were less proportioned to the
whole, and therefore not always equally rich in style, and beauty. It
still appears from that which has remained that the side-posts of these
doorways—just as those of each niche—had been formed by the serpent’s
bodies of two _nâgas_ whose tails ended into the mule of a monster-head
we saw above the doorway. We already came across this very same motif on
our walk round the niches, and on the banisters of _tyanḍi Mĕndut_ and
_tyanḍi Pawon_, and find it back in all the Buddha temples in Java,
especially in those of the plain of _Parambanan_, and in the ruins of
the temple group of this name whose buddhistic character will not be
easily acknowledged. At the foot of the doorway (or of the niche) these
_nâga_-heads ended into outward turned mythical monster-heads which, at
first sight remind us of elephants rather than of snake-like animals,
because their upper lips generally (not always) change into a trunk
curled up on their foreheads. Wilhelm von Humboldt and after him all
European examiners, among whom the Dutch scholar Leemans, therefore took
these monstrous figures for elephant’s heads without perceiving however,
that they changed into serpent’s bodies when seen on the side-posts of
the doorways; they also didn’t see the relation there was between these
heads and the monster-head above the doorways and niches.
Many years ago I had been misguided myself, and in the beginning I even
defended my error against the king of Siam who was, for all I know, the
only one that disputed this, and H. M. succeeded in convincing me by
logical argumentation.
In this ornament the _nâga_ represents a power inimical to buddhism, and
the monster which conquers this power by crushing the enemy’s tail
should be, according to the Siam opinion, _Rahu_ who also tries to
devour the sun during every eclipse.
This is comprehensible because this _Rahu_ has always been represented
as a head only, and after that his body severed from his head by
_Vishnu_’s tyakra, had fallen into the sea and perished.
When I afterwards communicated this explanation of the royal Buddhist to
the members of the _Mission archéologique de l’Indo-Chine_, this
mission’s director (who afterwards became the first director of the
_École française d’Extrême Orient_), Mr. _Louis Finot_, the great
indo-archaeologist, (even according to professor _Kern_) thought this
monster-head didn’t represent _Rahu_ but _Garuḍa_, the destroyer of the
_nâgas_. And when I argued I had always seen this _wâhana_, god
_Vishnu_’s riding animal or eagle, represented as a bird or as man-bird
provided with wings and claws or at least with the beak of a bird of
prey, the French-Indian scholar assured me he did know _Vishnu_’s
representations seated on such a monster-head only[23].
It was _I_ who afterwards found such _garuḍa_-heads with claws of a bird
of prey (with 3 or sometimes 4 front-toes).
As for the rest _Garuḍa_ is the deity’s faithful servant, and, according
to the Buddhists of the northern church, Vishnu must have revealed
himself in their _Buddha_ for the ninth time. He is also the natural
defender of this church, and the destroyer of its subterranean enemy.
In the form of the Javanese _kĕris_ (creese) I found, for about seven
years ago, the _nâga_ mostly adorned with a proboscis and an elephant’s
lip which may be taken as an indisputable proof of the truth of our idea
about this nâga-symbol.
But we are standing, in front of the eastern staircase, or before that
which has remained of it.
[Illustration: Northern staircase of the ruin of the _Båråbudur_,
with the gate leading from the fourth polygonal and surrounding
terrace to the round ones and the high middle-_dagob_. The only gate
which has remained intact, with the _Garuḍa-Nâga_ ornament on its
frontside.]
Even the beautiful banisters rising from above, out of a monster’s mule,
and ending in a nâga-head with trunk curled up, are no more to be
seen[24].
Eight high steps lead us to the _first_ gallery.
The very first thing we see is that the two walls are hewn with two
series of imageries richly framed, and placed above each other, whilst
it is clear to be seen that this must have been done after that these
walls had been run up from their combination of stone-blocks, and that
an uninterrupted band of exquisite festoons has been affixed above these
sculptures under the cornice of the _back_-wall.
Because of their having been modelled in relief style all these
sculptures are therefore no _basso_ but _alto-relievoes_.
The upper series of the front wall covers the somewhat declining back
parts of the mentioned niche- and dagob temples.
On the back wall we see similar temple-groups, but _all of them_, even
the small niche-temples, are crowned with dagobs and cones.
The three following and higher walls also carry such temple-groups, and
beneath the cornices of the outer-walls we see a band modified for each
wall, but always beautifully thought, and formed of elegant rosettes and
guirlandes with birds.
On the five encircling walls of the Båråbudur we see no less than 432
niches provided with Buddha-images we are going to speak about
afterwards[25].
We now turn to the left in order to begin our walk along the sculptures
of the _upper_ series of the _back_-wall.
This wall is the only one that has remained almost wholly preserved,
showing us a comparatively well explained row of following events which
give us an idea about the life of the Buddha _Siddhârta Gautama_, the
_Shâkyamuni_, from beginning to end[26].
Out of these 120 sculptures we can only give a superficial description
of a few of them that have been explained best.
Those of the lower series and of the _two_ rows on the front wall of
this gallery, and the _few_ rows of the two walls of the three following
galleries we shall pass in silence. Not yet _all_ of them have been
explained, and many a sculpture has been so badly damaged that it
doesn’t seem possible to explain them. Other ones are lost at all. That
which remained well preserved generally represents a worship of the
Buddha, of dagobs or tyaityas, of _bodhi_-trees, or perhaps of different
relics. Sometimes they also show us a distribution of viands, or other
presents, a preaching, a fable about animals or a scene from the former
lives of the Buddha as man or beast, or certain _Bodhisattvas_ or divine
predecessors of the Buddha, the Redeemer of this world[27].
Some sculptures are likely to be mere symbols. Formerly their number
amounted to more than 2000[28].
Let us begin our walk to the left of the eastern staircase in order to
return to our starting-point following the course of _the sun of the
northern hemisphere_[29], going through the South, West and North. This
order of succession regulated after this sun, we always find back on
these and other Hindu ruins; more or less a witness of the _northern_
origin of Javanese Buddhism[30].
The Siamese also followed this direction, and maintained that a walk to
the _right_ of the Buddha or the dagob, consequently with our left side
turned to it, would show our ignorance or want of respect.
For convenience’ sake, and in order to assist the visitor in finding the
few sculptures, we shall always count them from the preceding staircase
or from the first till the ninth wall-angle, and begin with the eastern
staircase.
The first scenes relate that which preceded Buddha’s life.
The fourth sculpture of the series (No. 7 of Wilsen’s pictures in Dr.
Leemans’ work), or 1 after the _first_ angle, may be, according to
Foucher, some of the many _Pratyeka-Buddhas_[31] in the park of gazelles
near Bénarès, and, when a deity informs them the birth on earth of a
consummate _Buddha_, one of them rises from his lotus-throne in order to
be burned by his own shine and ascetic diligence when seven elbows
higher in the air. The former explanation given by Leemans and myself,
according to Wilsen’s, was inaccurate.
Further towards the South we meet more than one representation of
Buddha’s parents, the _Shâkya_ king of _Kapilavastu_, _Shudhódana_, and
his first wife _Mâyâ_, honoured for the coming event, the next birth of
the divine son.
The _twelfth_ (23 W. L., 1 after the _fourth_ angle) is a symbolical
indication of Buddha’s descent from heaven in a palanquin moved on in
the air by celestials.
The _thirteenth_ (25 W. L., 2 after the _fourth_ angle) shows us _Mâyâ_
asleep, guarded by female servants, receiving the Buddha in a dream, in
the shape of a white elephant carried by lotus-cushions, descending from
heaven into her lap[32].
The _twenty-seventh_ (53 W. L. _eighth_ angle, 1) shows us _Mâyâ_ on her
journey to her paternal home. According to time-honoured usage she goes
there to wait for her confinement. However, she doesn’t come any farther
than _Lumbini_ garden, and the following sculpture (55 W. L. angle
_nine_, 1) tells us how she, while standing there under a tree, saw the
Buddha born from her side, and how the latter _immediately took seven
steps to each of the four zones of heaven, and as many steps to the
zenith_, and that as a sign of his next authority over the _five_ parts
of the world[33].
A rain of lotus flowers falls upon him, and lotus-plants open themselves
under his feet on each step he takes. The crescent of the moon on the
hind part of his head must refer to his heavenly or perhaps princely
origin[34].
On the following sculptures we see the young king’s son, most times on
his father’s knees, honoured by brahmins and laymen. His mother is no
more to be seen, because she (as every Buddha-mother) died seven days
after his birth.
The thirty-first sculpture (61 W. L., 1 after the southern staircase)
may refer to the brahmin who perceives the Buddha-tokens at Siddhârta’s
body, and predicts his next greatness; however, in quite another sense
than the king wishes.
On 77 and 79 (W. L., angle _two_, 5 and 6) we perceive similar scenes,
but this happens more after all.
The _forty-ninth_ (97 W. L., angle _five_, 4) on the westside sketches
us Siddhârta’s authority over others, and also as for manly strength. In
a wedding match (_svayamvara_) he bends a bow no other can bend, and
sends his arrow through seven cocoa trees. On this ground he gains the
hand of his cousin Rashodara, the most beautiful girl of all Shâkya
virgins[35].
Four other sculptures refer to the four encounters outside the palace,
which, in spite of paternal precautions, showed him life’s misery. What
then would be the use of these precautions to celestial beings who only
revealed themselves to him, and to his equerry and guide in order to
persuade the next Buddha in giving up all worldly greatness and domestic
happiness; in leaving his father and family, and gaining strength in a
life of retirement, of privation and expiation, of self-denial and
self-command in order to finish his heavenly task: the redemption of
suffering mankind!
Outside the _eastern_ gate he first comes across a decrepit grey-head
(111 W. L., 6 after the _seventh_ angle); afterwards, on his drive from
the _southern_ gate, he meets a sick one in death-struggle (113 W. L.,
angle 8, 1); and when he finds himself outside the _western_ entrance a
corpse shows him the end of life (115 W. L., angle _nine_, 1), and
finally, outside the _northern_ gate, a mendicant friar or _bhikshu_
teaches him as how to gain the victory over life and death, and find
peace by ruling all carnal desires (117 W. L., angle _nine_, 2).
On the sixty-first sculpture (121 W. L., 1 after the _western_
staircase) he discusses his resolution with his disappointed father. The
sleeping watchmen or servants refer to the night which passes on
discussing the subject.
On the two following sculptures (123 and 125 W. L., 2 and 3 after the
staircase) he communicates his resolution to his wife (or wives), and
his meditating posture, but also the larger disc of light crowning the
higher seat upon which, among sleeping women and servants, he is
watching the last night, all this speaks of the holy task of life which
raises him for ever above his family.
The following scene (127 W. L., 1 after the _first_ angle) tells us,
how, in spite of closed doors and sleeping gate-keepers, he succeeds in
leaving house and home to begin abroad the life of a poor wanderer
seated on the noble sun-horse Kanthaka. The lotus-cushion carrying him
again, just as it happened when he descended to earth, and which, on the
next sculptures (129 W. L., 1 after the _second_ corner) also carries
Kanthaka through the air, speaks once more of his heavenly sending.
Then come the leave-takings from his servant Tyhanda (131 W. L.,
_second_ angle, 2), and the taking off his princely garb (133 W. L.,
_second_ angle, 3), his hair-dress and weapons (135 W. L., _second_
angle 4 and following ones), and shabbily clothed in a hunter’s
skirt—his first cowl turned yellow by long usage—he begins the life of
the thinking ascetic whose sanctifying power we see continually
indicated by the lotus-cushion and the disc of light.
Mâra, the wicked spirit of darkness, vainly tries to check him by
offering him the dominion over the four parts of the world (the East,
South, West, and North)[36].
Far from his native town Siddhârta already began his new life which
henceforth gave him claim to the name of the _wise Shâkya_
(Shâkya-muni)[37].
The following sculptures show us the penitent clothed as _Buddha_ with
the _urna_ and the _tiara_, the ring of hair on his forehead, and the
knot of hair on his crest, with the lotus-cushion and disc of the sun
worshipped by princes and inferior people, by priests and laymen, men,
women and celestials.
On the _seventy-second_ sculpture (141 W. L., angle _three_, 1) we see
him ask for being instructed by the wise brahmin Alara who is unable to
teach his wiser superior[38]. The _Shâkya_’s superiority appears from
his Buddha posture and his lotus-throne.
On the now following one [143 W. L., 1 after the _fourth_ angle] we see
him near another wise person, called Udraka[39], and as this one also
turns out to be his inferior he leaves him accompanied by _five_ of his
[Udraka’s] disciples.
On the following one [145 W. L., 2 after the _fourth_ angle] he
approaches _Rajargriha_[40], the capital of the empire of _Magadha_. Its
king Bimbisâra and the queen come to visit him, and offer him half their
empire, but the Bodhisattva doesn’t seek for worldly greatness.
The two first scenes on the north side [151 and 153 W. L., _fifth_
angle, 1 and 2] place him and his five followers on the banks of a
brook, vainly trying to seek strength [for wisdom] in a life of
abstinence and penitence. He therefore breaks with that life and with
his disciples, who wrongly suppose him an apostate and leave him alone
to continue elsewhere their lives of penitence. Six years of misery
convinced the wise _Shâkya_ that a sound spirit can live in a sound body
only.
The sculptor of these scenes incorrigibly hewed the disciples’ dislike
in their Master’s changed opinion, which is to be seen in their
spokesman’s posture. The hands of this man are a masterpiece of
expression. It would be a loss never to be remedied if these hands were
taken away, which, after all, would be of no value to the robber because
they can’t give back the proportion to their arms and bodies. Nothing,
however, is safe from the rapaciousness of foolish tourists-compilers.
The _eighty-first_ sculpture [161 W. L., angle _seven_, 1] teaches us
how Sujâtâ, the daughter of a village headman, takes care of the
penitent, almost dying from exhaustion, and how she refreshes him with
nutritive milk.
We see an almost similar representation on the _eighty-fourth_ sculpture
[167 W. L., angle _seven_, 4]. Such repetitions are more to be seen,
though they are rare ones.
The _Shâkya_ _Muni_ accomplished his purpose at last. He got all
knowledge, and truth became his power. He has ripened to appear as
_Buddha_, the _Enlightened_, the _awaking luminary celestial_, to come
in the world wrapped in darkness, to teach the true doctrine, the
_dharma_, and redeem mankind from sin.
Seated on a heap of bulrush, under a fig-tree, afterwards sanctified as
the _tree of knowledge_, the _bodhidruma_, he fights his last fight
against the Evil Spirit which he knows to conquer once more; and the
latter budges from his side for ever.
On the _ninety-fourth_ sculpture [187 W. L., the first after the _first_
angle after the _western_ staircase] we see how the weapons of demons or
false deities fall upon him as harmless flowers. A second and larger
disc speaks of his increasing power, the magnificence of the sun rising
in full glory.
The following sculpture (189 W L., after the _second_ angle) tells us
how Mâra tries to conquer him by the charmingness of his daughters, the
_apsarasas_ (the rosy morning-mists) (Kern). But though one of these
nymphs adopts the shape of Yashódarâ, Râhula-_mata_ (the mother of
Râhula, Siddhârta’s son), he henceforth lives a life of _love_ highly
beneficial to all beings.
Teaching and honoured he goes to _Banaras_ (_Bénarès_) such as the last
sculptures on the north side will show us.
On the _one hundred and seventeenth_ (233 W. L., _eighth_ angle, 1) he
proclaims truth to the five disciples found back, and now for ever his
faithful followers and first apostles[41].
The three last sculptures of the whole series which bring us back again
to our starting-point near the eastern staircase, speak of Buddha’s
greatness, but don’t refer to his journey to the native-town and to the
reclaiming of father and son, of his wife and step-mother, the first
buddhistic nuns. The last sculpture but one (237 W. L., 2 after the
_ninth_ and _last_ angle) speaks of his death, for the washing of his
corpse hewn there, may only apply to his _death_, though the sitting
posture of the dead one may seem in flat defiance of this.[42] But this
posture on the lotus-throne, with his two hands in his lap, is the
posture of meditation or perfect rest suiting the _nirvâna_ which is
also the posture of the fourth _Dhyâni-buddha_, Amitâbha, hewn on the
four lower-walls and dominating there the West, opposite to the setting
sun speaking in a symbolical sense of the finished task of life.
Behind the dead one we see stand two _monks_ pouring their vases to
purify the corpse before the cremation will make an end to his material
existence.
On the last sculpture (239 W. L., 3 after the _last_ angle) the Buddha
thrones in the very same posture, as the glorification of death, as the
immortal _Talhâgata_ who, in spite of his material death, continues to
live in his holy doctrine, and who can never die as such.
That the study of Foucher’s work could also assist me in finding the
sense of some other not comprehended sculptures may appear from the 5^th
panel after the 7^th angle past the eastern staircase, which shows us
the killing of Siddhârta’s elephant by his angry nephew Dervadatta.