XI. WOODEN ARCHITECTURE…

XI. WOODEN ARCHITECTURE

CONTENTS.

Mosque of Shah Hamadan, Srinugger.

KASHMIR.

Turning for the nonce from this quasi-wooden style--which is only an indication of decadence and decrepitude--it would be pleasing if we could finish our narrative with the description of a true wooden style as it exists in Kashmir. The Jumma Musjid, in the city of Srinugger, is a large and important building, and if not so magnificent as some of those described in the preceding pages, is of great interest from being designed to be constructed in wood, and wood only. A knowledge of its peculiarities would, consequently, help us much in understanding many problems that arise in investigating the history of architecture in India. Unfortunately it is not a fashionable building, and of the 1001 tourists who visit the valley no one mentions it, and no photographer has yet set up his camera within its precincts.[563]

Its plan apparently is the usual one: a courtyard surrounded by cloisters, longer and loftier on the side towards Mecca, its peculiarity being that all the pillars that support its roofs are of Deodar pine--not used, of course, to imitate stone or stone construction, but honest wooden forms, as in Burmese monasteries and elsewhere. The carving on them is, I believe, rich and beautiful, and though dilapidated, the effect is said to be still singularly pleasing.

There is one other mosque in the same city, known as that of Shah Hamadan (Woodcut No. 345), which is equally erected wholly in wood, and though very much smaller than the Jumma Musjid, is interesting, in the first place, because its roof is probably very similar to that which once covered the temple at Marttand (Woodcut No. 161), and the crowning ornament is evidently a reminiscence of a Buddhist Tee, very much altered, it must be confessed, but still not so very unlike some found in Nepal, as at Swayambunath (Woodcut No. 170), for instance, and elsewhere.

The walls, too, are of interest to us, because the mode in which the logs are disposed and ornamented resembles the ornamentation of the Orissan temples more clearly than any stone forms we can call to mind. The courses of the stone work in the tower of the great temple at Bhuvaneswar (Woodcut No. 233), the Moitre Serai, and other temples there, produce so nearly the same effect, that it does not seem improbable they may have been derived from some such original. The mode, too, in which the Orissan temples are carved, and the extent to which that class of ornamentation is carried, is much more suggestive of a wooden than of a lithic origin.

These, however, are questions that can only be profitably discussed when we have more knowledge of this Kashmiri style than we now possess. When the requisite materials are available for the purpose, there are few chapters that will be of greater interest, or that will more worthily conclude the Architectural History of India than those that treat of the true and false styles of wooden art, with which the narrative begins, and with which it also ends.

I. BURMAH

CONTENTS.

Introductory--Ruins of Thatún, Prome, and Pagan--Circular Dagobas--Monasteries.

INTRODUCTORY.

The styles of architecture described in the preceding chapters of this volume practically exhaust the enumeration of all those which were practised in India Proper, with its adjacent island of Ceylon, from the earliest dawn of our knowledge till the present day. It might, therefore, be possible to treat their description as a work complete in itself, and to conclude without reference to other styles practised in neighbouring countries. It will add, however, immensely not only to the interest but to the completeness of the work, if the history is continued through the architectural forms of those countries which adopted religions originating in India, and borrowed with them architectural forms which expressed, with more or less distinctness, how far their religious beliefs differed from, or agreed with, those of the country from which they were derived.

The first of these countries to which we naturally turn is Burmah, which adopted the religion of Sakya Muni at a very early period, and borrowed also many of the Indian forms of architecture, but with differences we are now at a loss to account for. It may be, that, as we know nothing practically of the architectural forms of the Lower Bengal provinces before the beginning of the 6th century, these forms may have been taken to Prome and Pegu before that time; or it may be that a northern or Thibetan element crept into Burmah across the northern mountains by some route we cannot now follow. These are interesting problems we shall not be able to solve till we have a more critical knowledge than we now possess of Burmese buildings. Thanks to the zeal and intelligence of some recent English travellers, we do know a great deal about Burmese art. The works of Symes,[564] Crawfurd,[565] and, above all, of Colonel Yule,[566] are replete with information; but what they did was done in the intervals they were able to snatch from pressing public duties. What is really wanted is, that some qualified person should take up the subject specially, and travel through the country with no other object than to investigate its antiquities. With the knowledge we now have, six months spent on such a mission ought to tell us all, or nearly all, we now want to know.[567] Pending that being done, we must be content to leave a good deal still to be explained by future investigators.

THATÚN.

The earliest really authentic notice we have of these countries is in the ‘Mahawanso.’ It is there related that, after the third convocation--B.C. 246--Asoka despatched two missionaries, Sono and Uttaro, to Souverna Bhumi, the Golden Land, to carry the glad tidings of the religion of the Vanquisher.[568] It is now perfectly ascertained that this place was almost certainly the Golden Chersonese of classical geographers, situated on the Sitang river, and now called Thatún, about forty miles’ travelling distance north from Martaban.[569] Since it ceased to be a place of importance, either by the silting up from the river or the elevation of the land, it is now no longer a port; but there can be little doubt that for some centuries before and after the Christian Era it was the emporium through which a very considerable portion of the trade between China and the western world was carried on. The line of passage was apparently across the Bay of Bengal from the delta of the Kistnah and Godavery; and it was to this trade route that we probably owe the rise and importance of Amravati till it was superseded by the direct sea-voyage from Gujerat and the west coast of India in the 6th century. The place was sacked and entirely destroyed, according to Sir A. Phayre, in A.D. 1080, by Anauratha, king of Pegu; but long before that time it had been dwindling, from the growing importance of Pegu, which was founded in A.D. 517 or A.D. 573.[570]

The only description of its ruins is by St. Andrew St. John, in the second volume of the ‘Phœnix’ above referred to; but they seem even now to be very extensive, in spite of neglect and consequent decay. The walls can still be traced for 7700 ft. in one direction by 4000 ft. in another, enclosing a regular oblong of more than 700 acres. In this enclosure are several old pagodas, some, unfortunately, recently repaired, but all of a form we have not yet met with, though we shall presently when we come to speak of Java.

The principal pagoda here, like all the others, is built of hewn laterite. Its base is a square, measuring 104 ft. each way, and 18 ft. high; the second storey is 70 ft. square and 16½ ft. high; the third 48 ft. square and 12 ft. high. On this now stands a circular pagoda, making up the whole height to 85 ft. Mr. St. John fancies this circular part may be much more modern than the rest, but he adds, “the whole face of the pagoda has been carved in patterns; but the most remarkable part is the second storey, to which access is given by four flights of steps, one in the centre of each face. The whole was apparently adorned with sculptures of the most elaborate character.”

There seem to be no data to enable us to fix with certainty the date of this or of other similar pagodas in this place, and no photographs to enable us to speak with certainty as to their details, which is to be regretted, as it is just in such an old city as this that we may expect to find those early forms which may explain so much that is now unintelligible in subsequent examples. Thatún was coeval with Anuradhapura in Ceylon, and if examined with care, might do as much for the square form of temple as the island capital may do for the round form. Their greatest interest would, however, arise from the light they might throw on the square temples of Pagan and other Burmese cities, whose origin it has hitherto been impossible to explain. Meanwhile it is a fact worth bearing in mind that we find here square three-storeyed pagodas, which certainly were erected before A.D. 1080, when the city was destroyed, and probably before the 6th century, when it was practically superseded by the rise of the new city and kingdom of Pegu.

PROME.

If we might trust the Burmese annals, Prome was a capital city as early as the year 101 of Faith, or after the Nirvana of Buddha.[571] In other words, it seems probable that Buddhist missionaries from the second convocation held under Kalasoka, in the previous year (B.C. 433), established themselves here, and introduced the new religion into the country.[572] The real political capital of the country at that time seems to have been Tagoung, half-way between Ava and Bhamo, on the Upper Irawaddi.[573] Prome, however, seems to have continued the religious capital till A.D. 107, when the two capitals were amalgamated, under the name of Old Pagan on the northern site, to be again transferred to New Pagan, below Ava, about the year 847.[574] Upper Pagan seems to have been visited by Captain Hannay, in A.D. 1835, and by others subsequently, and the remains are described as extensive, but too much ruined and obscured by jungle to admit of any scientific investigation. Those of Prome would probably be even more interesting; but I know of no description that enables us to ascertain what they really are. I have photographs of some dagobas--rather too tall to be very old--but, without some mouldings or architectural details, it is impossible to guess even what their age may be; so that practically the architectural history of Burmah begins with the foundation of Pagan in the middle of the 9th century, and as it was destroyed by the Chinese, or rather the Tartar army of Kublai Khan, in 1284,[575] its glory lasted little more than four centuries. During that period, however, it was adorned by a very extensive series of monuments, most of which still remain in a state of very tolerable preservation.

It will thus be observed that the rise and fall of Pagan are, as nearly as may be, coincident with that of Pollonarua, in Ceylon; but the Burmese city seems to have excelled the Ceylonese capital both in the extent of its buildings and in their magnificence. Their differences, too, both in form and detail, are very remarkable, but, if properly investigated, would throw light on many religious and ethnographical problems that are now very obscure.

PAGAN.

The ruins of Pagan extend about eight miles in length along the river, with an average breadth of about two miles, and within that space Colonel Yule estimates there may still be traced the remains of 800 or 1000 temples. Several of these are of great magnificence, and are kept in a state of repair; but the bulk of them are in ruins, and the forms of the greater part hardly distinguishable.

Of these, one of the most remarkable is that of Ananda. As will be seen from the annexed plan (Woodcut No. 346), it is a square of nearly 200 ft. on each side, with projecting porticos on each face, so that it measures 280 ft. across each way. Like all the great pagodas of the city, it is seven storeys in height; six of these are square and flat, each diminishing in extent, so as to give the whole a pyramidal form; the seventh, which is or simulates the cell of the temple, takes the form of a Hindu or Jaina temple, the whole in this instance rising to the height of 183 ft.

Internally, the building is extremely solid, being intersected only by two narrow concentric corridors; but in rear of each projecting transept is a niche most artificially lighted from above, in which stands a statue of Buddha more than 30 ft. in height. This is the arrangement we find in the Chaumuk temple at Palitana and at Sadri (Woodcut No. 133), both Jaina temples of the 15th century, and which it is consequently rather surprising to find here as early as the 11th century (A.D. 1066[576]); but the form and the whole of the arrangement of these temples are so unlike what we find elsewhere that we must be prepared for any amount of anomalies.

Next in rank to this is the Thapinya--the Omniscient--erected about the year 1100 by the grandson of the king who built the Ananda. It is very similar to the Ananda both in dimensions and in plan, except that it has only one porch instead of four, and consequently only one great statue in its cell instead of four standing back to back. Its height is 201 ft., and it is the highest in the place (Woodcuts Nos. 347, 348).

The third in importance is called the Gaudapalen, built in 1160. This temple is smaller than those just mentioned, but makes up in richness and beauty of detail for its more diminutive dimensions.

The Dhamayangyee, now in ruins, is quite equal in dimensions to the Ananda, and very much resembles it in plan and design; while one called the Sem Byo Koo, is, in its details, the most beautiful of any.

The general appearance of these temples will be understood from the annexed view (Woodcut No. 349) of that called Gaudapalen, and their general arrangements from the section of the Thapinya, of which a plan is given (Woodcut No. 347). They are all so similar that it is needless to multiply illustrations, the only real difference being in the greater or less amount of ornament in stucco which has been applied to each.

The first thing that strikes the inquirer on examining these temples is their remarkable dissimilarity with anything on the continent of India. They are not topes in any sense of the term, nor are they viharas. The one building we have hitherto met with which they in any way resemble is the seven-storeyed Prasada at Pollonarua (Woodcut No. 106), which, no doubt, belongs to the same class. It is possible that the square pagodas at Thatún, when properly examined, may contain the explanation we are searching for. They evidently were not alone, and many other examples may still be found when looked for. On the whole, however, I am inclined to believe, improbable as it may at first sight appear, that their real synonyms are to be found in Babylonia, not in India. The Birs Nimroud is, like them, a seven-storeyed temple, with external stairs, leading to a crowning cell or sanctuary. Of course, during the seventeen centuries which elapsed between the erection of the two buildings, considerable changes have taken place. The lowest stairs in Burmah have become internal; in Babylonia they were apparently external. At the head of the third flight at the Birs, Sir Henry Rawlinson found the remains of three recesses. At Pagan these had been pushed into the centre of the third storey. The external flights were continued on the upper three storeys at both places; but in Babylonia they lead to what seems to have been the real sanctuary, in Burmah to a simulated one only, but of a form which, in India, always contained a cell and an image of the deity to whom the temple was dedicated.

It may be asked, How is it possible that a Babylonian form should reach Burmah without leaving traces of its passage through India? It is hardly a sufficient answer to say it must have come viâ Thibet and Central Asia; because, in the present state of our knowledge, we do not know of such a route being used. It is a more probable explanation to say that such monuments may have existed in the great Gangetic cities, but, like these Burmese examples, in brick and plaster; and have perished, as they would be sure to do in that climate, and where hostile races succeeded the Buddhists. But, however it may be eventually accounted for, it hardly appears to me doubtful that these Burmese seven-storeyed temples are the lineal descendants of the Babylonian examples, and that we shall some day be able to supply the gaps which exist in their genealogy.

Meanwhile one thing must be borne in mind. The earliest capital of the Burmese was Tagoung in the north, and their real affinities are with the north. They got their religion by the southern route from Bengal, but it was engrafted on a stem of which we know very little, and all whose affinities have yet got to be traced to their source.

* * * * *

Before leaving these square temples, it may be well to point out some peculiarities which are new to us. In the first place it is a purely brick style, and, as such, using true radiating arches, not only to span the openings but to roof their passages and halls. This is so unlike what we find in any part of India Proper, that it seems to point with certainty to some foreign--most probably a northern--country for its origin. As frequently mentioned above, no Buddhist arch is known to exist in India,[577] and, except in the reign of Akbar, hardly a Hindu one, in any temple down to the present day. It could hardly, in consequence, be derived from that country, but there is no reason for believing that the Chinese or Tartar nations ever showed any aversion to these forms. We know, at all events, that the Assyrians and Babylonians used brick arches long before the Christian Era, and the art may have been communicated by them to the nations of Northern Asia, and from them it may have come down the Irawaddi.

It would be a curious speculation to try and find out what the Jains in western India would have done had they been forced to use brick instead of stone during the 11th and 12th centuries, which was the great building epoch on the Irawaddi and in Gujerat. Possibly they would have arrived at the same conclusion, in which case we can only congratulate ourselves that the westerns were not tempted with the fatal facility of bricks and mortar.

Another peculiarity is, that these square Burmese pagodas adopt the curvilinear sikra of the Indo-Aryan style. This may be considered a sufficient indication that they derived some, at least, of their architectural features, as well as their religion, from India; but as this form was adopted by both Jains and Hindus in the north of India, from the mouths of the Indus to the Bay of Bengal in that age, it hardly enables us to point out the particular locality from which it was derived, or the time at which it was first introduced. It is, however, so far as we at present know, the only instance of its being found out of India Proper.

CIRCULAR DAGOBAS.

Leaving these square quasi-Jaina temples, which are clearly exceptional, the dagobas of Burmah are found to be generally much more like those which are found in India and Ceylon, though many, having been erected only in the present century, are of forms more complex and attenuated than those in India Proper.

The one most like the Indian type is that known as the Kong Madú, not far from Mengûn, on the same side of the river. The mass of the dome, according to Colonel Yule,[578] is about 100 ft. diameter. It is taller than a semicircle--which would indicate a modern date--and stands on three concentric bases, each wider than the other. Round the whole is a railing, consisting of 784 stone pillars, each standing about 6 ft. out of the ground, and divided into four quadrants by four stone gateways (Woodcut No. 350). An inscription, on a white marble slab, records the erection of this pagoda between the years 1636 and 1650. I, at one time, thought it must be older; but the evidence of recent explorations renders this date more probable than it formerly appeared. If correct, it is curious as showing how little real change had occurred during the sixteen centuries which elapsed between the erection of the tope at Sanchi (Woodcuts Nos. 10-12) and the seventeenth century.

Perhaps the most important pagoda in the Burmese empire is the great Shoëmadu[579] at Pegu, of which a plan and elevation are given from those published by Colonel Symes in his account of his embassy to Ava. As will be seen from the woodcuts (Nos. 351, 352), the plan deviates considerably from the circular form, which is exclusively used in the edifices of this class hitherto described, and approaches more nearly to those elaborately polygonal forms which are affected by all the Hindu builders of modern date. It returns, however, to the circular form before terminating, and is crowned, like all Burmese buildings of this class, by an iron spire or tee richly gilt.

Another peculiarity is strongly indicative of its modern date: namely, that instead of a double or triple range of pillars surrounding its base, we have a double range of minute pagodas--a mode of ornamentation that subsequently became typical in Hindu architecture--their temples and spires being covered, and, indeed, composed of innumerable models of themselves, clustered together so as to make up a whole. As before remarked, something of the same sort occurs in Roman art, where every window and opening is surmounted by a pediment or miniature temple end, and in Gothic art, where a great spire is surrounded by pinnacles or spirelets; but in these styles it is never carried to the same excess as in Hindu art. In the present instance it is interesting, as being one of the earliest attempts at this class of decoration.

The building stands on two terraces, the lower one about 10 ft. high, and 1391 ft. square; the upper one, 20 ft. in height, and 684 ft. square; from the centre rises the pagoda, the diameter of whose base is 395 ft. The small pagodas are 27 ft. high, and 108 or 110 in number; while the great pagoda itself rises to the height of 331 ft. above its terrace, or 361 ft. above the country, thus reaching a height about equal to that of St. Paul’s Cathedral: while the side of the upper terrace is only 83 ft. less than that of the great Pyramid.

Tradition ascribes its commencement to two merchants, who raised it to the height of 12 cubits, at an age slightly subsequent to that of Buddha himself. Successive kings of Pegu added to it from time to time, till at last it assumed its present form, most probably about three or four centuries ago.

The next in importance, so far as we know, is the more generally known Shoëdagong pagoda at Rangûn, a building very similar in dimensions to the last named, and by no means unlike it, except that the outline of the base is cut up to even a greater extent, and the spire more attenuated--both signs of a comparatively modern date. The base is even more crowded by little temples than that at Pegu, and its whole height is somewhat less. There is, however, no essential difference between the two buildings, and this is principally interesting as leading us one step further in the series from the solid hemispherical mound to the thin spire, which, both in Burmah and Siam, is the modern form usually assumed by these edifices, till they lose all but a traditional resemblance to the buildings from which they originally sprang.

The general appearance of their spires may be gathered from the three shown on the left of the annexed woodcut (No. 353), which is precisely that of the Great Pagoda. This illustration is also valuable as showing the last lineal descendant of these great human-headed winged lions that once adorned the portals of the palaces at Nineveh; but after nearly 3000 years of wandering and ill-treatment have degenerated into these wretched caricatures of their former selves.

The Shoëdagong pagoda, like all the more important ones, is fabled to have been commenced about 2300 years ago, or about the era of Buddha himself; its sanctity, however, is owing to its containing relics, not only of the last Buddha, but also of his three predecessors--Buddha having vouchsafed eight hairs of his head to its two founders, on the understanding that they were to be enshrined with the relics of the three former Buddhas, where and when found.[580] After numerous miraculous indications, on this spot were discovered the staff of Kakusanda, believed to have lived some 3000 years before Christ, the water-dipper of Konagamma, and the bathing garment of Kasyapa, which, with the eight hairs above mentioned, are enshrined within this great pagoda.[581] Originally, however, notwithstanding the value of its deposit, the building was small, and it is probably not more than a century since it assumed its present form.

A crowd of smaller pagodas surrounds the larger one, of all sizes, from 30 ft. to 200 ft. in height, and even more. There is scarcely a village in the country that does not possess one or two, and in all the more important towns they are numbered by hundreds; indeed, they may almost be said to be innumerable. They are almost all quite modern, and so much alike as not to merit any distinct or separate mention. They indicate, however, a great degree of progressive wealth and power in the nation, from the earliest times to the present day, and an increasing prevalence of the Buddhistical system. This is a direct contrast to the history of Ceylon, whose glory was greatest in the earliest centuries of the Christian Era, and was losing its purity at the time when the architectural history of Burmah first dawns upon us. Thus the buildings of one country supplement those of the other, and present together a series of examples of the same class, ranging over more than 2000 years, if we reckon from the oldest topes in Ceylon to the most modern in Burmah.

At a place called Mengûn, about half-way between the former capital of Amîrapura and the present one at Mandalé, are two pagodas, which are not without considerable interest for our present purposes; if for no other reason, at least for this--that both were erected within the limits of the present century, and show that neither the forms nor aspirations of the art were wholly extinguished even in our day. The first is circular in form, and was erected in the year 1816, in the reign of a king of Burmah called Bodo Piyah, who is also the author of the second. As will be seen from the woodcut (No. 354), it is practically a dagoba, with five concentric procession-paths. Each of these is ornamented by a curious serpent-like balustrade, interspersed with niches containing, or intended to contain, statues of Buddha, and is accessible by four flights of steps facing the four cardinal points. The whole is surrounded by a low circular wall, 750 ft. in diameter, said to represent the serpent Ananta. Within this is a basement, measuring about 400 ft. across, and this, with the procession-paths and dagoba on the summit, make up seven storeys, intended, it is said, to symbolise the mythical Mount Meru.[582]

It will be recollected that, when speaking of the great dagobas of Anuradhapura in Ceylon, it was pointed out (ante, p. 190) that they had three procession-paths round their bases, ascended in like manner by flights of steps opposite the four cardinal points of the compass. It is interesting to observe here, after a lapse of 2000 years, and at a distance of nearly 1500 miles, the changes have been so small. It is true the number of procession-paths has increased from three to five, and the terraces become relatively much more important than in the older examples; but, barring this and some changes in detail, the monuments are practically the same, notwithstanding all the curious varieties that have sprung up in the interval.

The other pagoda at this place was commenced by the same king, called Mentara Gyé, or Bodo Piyah, who died in 1819, and seems to have been an attempt to revive the old square forms of Pagan, in the same manner as the other was intended to recall memories of the older forms of early Indian Buddhism. “It stands on a basement of five successive terraces, of little height, the lower terrace forming a square of 450 ft. From the upper terrace starts the vast cubical pile of the pagoda, 230 ft. square in plan, and rising, in a solid mass, to the height of about 100 ft., with slightly sloping walls. Above this it contracts in successive terraces, three of which had been completed, raising the mass to a height of 165 ft., at the time the work was abandoned.”[583] From a model standing near, it is inferred that, if completed, it would have risen to the height of 500 ft.; it is even now a solid mass containing between 6,000,000 and 7,000,000 cubic feet of brickwork. Had it been carried out, it would have been the tallest building in the world. It was, however, shattered by an earthquake in 1839; but, even in its ruined state, is as large and imposing a mass of brickwork as is to be found anywhere.[584] Since the pyramids of Egypt, nothing so great has been attempted, and it belongs to the 19th century!

MONASTERIES.

As Burmah is a country in which the monastic system of Buddhism flourishes at the present day to the fullest extent, if we had more information regarding its monasteries, or kioums as they are called, it might enable us to understand the arrangement of the older ones. The travellers who have visited the country have been silent on the subject, principally because the monasteries are, in almost all instances, less magnificent than the pagodas to which they are attached, and are, with scarcely an exception, built of wood--a practice destructive of their architectural character, and also depriving them wholly of that monumental appearance of stability which is so essential to true architectural expression.

This peculiarity is not confined to the monasteries; all residences, from that of the poorest peasant to the palace of the king, having been constructed from time immemorial of this perishable material. The custom has now passed into a law, that no one shall have the power of erecting buildings of stone or brick, except it be the king himself, or unless the edifices be of a purely religious character. Even this exception is not always taken advantage of, for the king’s palace itself is as essentially a wooden erection as the dwelling of any of his subjects. It is, however, not the less magnificent on this account--rather, perhaps, more so--immense sums being spent on the most elaborate carvings, and the whole being lacquered, painted, and gilt, to an extent of which we have no conception in our more sober clime.

The general appearance of the façade may be realised from the annexed view (Woodcut No. 355); but its real magnificence consists in the profusion of gilding and carving with which every part is covered, and to which it is impossible to do justice on so small a scale.

The same profuse decorations are bestowed upon the monasteries, one of which is represented in the annexed woodcut (No. 356), showing a building in which all the defects arising from the use of so easily carved a material, are carried to excess. If the colouring and gilding could be added, it would represent a building such as the West never saw, and, let us hope, never will see; for, however dazzling its splendour, such barbaric magnificence is worthy only of a half-civilized race.

The naked form of these monasteries--if the expression may be used--will be understood from the following woodcut (No. 357) of one recently erected at Mandalé, and, though inhabited, not quite finished. It is five storeys in height, and, if I mistake not, as nearly reproduces the Lowa Maha Paya of Anuradhapura, as the circular Mengûn pagoda does the Abhayagiri or Ruanwelli dagobas there. Here, however, the storeys have lost their meaning; only one storey is used as a residence[585]--the first, or “piano nobile,” as we would call it. The upper storeys are only ornamental reminiscences of past utilitarian forms, but which evidently once had a meaning. Had the building been completed--perhaps it is now--it would have been ornamented with carving as richly as that represented in the preceding woodcut, for it is one of the advantages of wooden architecture, that its decorative features may be added after the fabric is practically complete in all essential points.

These many-storeyed kioums, with the tall seven-storeyed spires (shown in Woodcuts Nos. 353 and 356), bring us back to the many-storeyed temples in Nepal, which are in all essential respects so nearly identical, that it can hardly be doubted they had a common origin. We are not yet in a position to point out the connecting links which will fuse the detached fragments of this style into a homogeneous whole, but it is probably in China that they must be looked for, only we know so little of the architectural history of the western portion of that great country, that we must wait for further information before even venturing on this subject.

The fact that all the buildings of Burmah are of wood, except the pagodas, may also explain how it is that India possesses no architectural remains anterior to the age of Asoka. Except the comparatively few masonry pagodas, none of which existed prior to his era, there is nothing in Burmah that a conflagration of a few hours would not destroy, or the desertion of a few years entirely obliterate. That the same was the practice of India is almost certain, from the essentially wooden forms still found prevailing in all the earlier cave temples; and, if so, this fully accounts for the disappearance of all earlier monuments.

We know that wooden architecture was the characteristic of Nineveh, where all the constructive parts were formed in this perishable material; and from the Bible we learn that Solomon’s edifices were chiefly so constructed. Persepolis presents us with the earliest instance in Asia of this wooden architecture being petrified, as it were--apparently in consequence of the intercourse its builders maintained with Egypt and with Greece.

In Burmah these wooden types still exist in more completeness than, perhaps, in any other country. Even if the student is not prepared to admit the direct ethnographic connexion between the buildings of Burmah and Babylon--which seems hardly to admit of doubt--he will at any rate best learn in this country to appreciate much in ancient architecture, which, without such a living illustration, it is hard to understand. Solomon’s House of the Cedars of Lebanon is, with mere difference of detail, reproduced at Ava or Amîrapura; and the palaces of Nineveh and Persepolis are rendered infinitely more intelligible by the study of these edifices. Burmah is almost equally important in enabling us to understand what an active, prosperous Buddhist community may have been in India at a time when that religion flourished there; and altogether, if means were available for its full elucidation, it would form one of the most interesting chapters in the History of Architecture in Asia.

II. SIAM

CONTENTS.

Pagodas at Ayuthia and Bangkok--Hall of Audience at Bangkok--General Remarks.

Although the architecture of Siam is very much less important than that of Burmah on the one hand, or Cambodia on the other, it is still sufficiently so to prevent its being passed over in a general summary of styles. Its worst feature, as we now know it, is, that it is so extremely modern. Up to the 14th century the capital of the country was Sokotay, a city on the Menam, 200 miles from the sea in a direct line, and situated close to the hills. This city has not been visited by any traveller in modern times, so we do not know what buildings it may contain. About the year 1350 the Siamese were successful in their wars with the Cambodians, and eventually succeeded in capturing their capital, Intha patha puri, or Indra prestha (Delhi), and practically annexing Cambodia to their kingdom.

Having accomplished this, they moved their capital down to Ayuthia, a little more than fifty miles from the sea; and three centuries afterwards Bangkok succeeded it, and is now the capital. It is by no means certain whether this migration downwards was caused by political events and increasing commerce, or from the country gradually becoming drier and more fit for human habitation. Judging from what happened in Bengal in historical times, I should fancy it was the latter.

In India we find civilized nations first established in the Punjab and on the watershed between the Sutlej and the Jumna. Between 2000 and 3000 years B.C. Oude seems to have become dry enough for human habitation, and Ayodhya[586] (from which the Siamese capital took its name) became the chief city. Between 1000 and 500 B.C. Janakpore on the north, and Rajagriha on the south, were the capital cities of Bengal; but both being situated on the hills, it was not till Asoka’s time (250 B.C.) that Patna on the Soane and Vaisali on the Gunduck, became capitals; and still another 1000 years elapsed before Gaur and Dacca became important, while Moorshedabad, Hooghly, and Calcutta, are cities of yesterday.[587] The same phenomenon seems to have occurred in Siam, and, what is of still more interest, as we shall presently see, in Cambodia.

* * * * *

As Ayuthia was for three centuries the flourishing capital of one of the great building races of the world, we should, of course, look for considerable magnificence having been displayed in its architecture. From the accounts of the early Portuguese and Dutch travellers who visited it in the days of its glory, it seems to have merited the title they bestowed upon it of the “Venice of the East,” and the remains justify their eulogiums. The buildings, however, seem to have been principally constructed of brick and wood; and as the city has now been practically deserted for more than a century, the wild fig-trees have everywhere inserted their roots into the masonry, and decay has progressed rapidly among the wooden erections. As described by recent visitors, nothing can be more wildly picturesque than this once splendid city, now overgrown with jungle; but such a stage of decay is, of all conditions, the least favourable to the researches of the antiquary.

* * * * *

The form which the older pagodas took at Ayuthia differs in many essential respects from those which we find either in India or in Burmah. The top or upper part has a rounded domical shape, which we can easily fancy to be derived from the tope, but the upright part looks more like the sikra of a Hindu temple than anything Buddhist. If we had a few earlier examples, perhaps we might trace the steps by which the one passed into the other; at present the gaps in the series are too great to be bridged over with anything approaching certainty. One link, however, seems to be supplied by the temples of Nakhon Wat in Cambodia, of which more hereafter.

The same outline is found in the crowning members of the pagodas of Bangkok, but they are covered with an elaboration of detail and exuberance of coloured ornament that has seldom been surpassed, nor is it desirable it should be, for it is here carried to an extent truly barbarous (Woodcut No. 360).

Notwithstanding the bad taste which they display, these Bangkok pagodas are interesting in the history of architecture as exemplifying the instinctive mode in which some races build, and the innate and irrepressible love of architecture they display. But it also shows how easily these higher aspirations degenerate into something very like vulgarity, when exercised by a people in so low a stage of civilization as the modern Siamese.

The same remarks apply to their civic buildings: palaces and porticos, and even dwelling-houses, are all as rich as carving and gilding, and painting, can make them; but, as in the pagodas, it is overdone, and fails to please, because it verges on vulgarity.

The typical design of all these halls and minor buildings will be understood from the preceding woodcut, representing the Hall of Audience at Bangkok. Like all the others, it has two roofs intersecting one another at right angles, and a spire of greater or less elevation on the intersection. Sometimes one, two, or three smaller gables are placed in front of the first, each lower than the one behind it, so as to give a pyramidal effect to the whole. Generally, the subordinate gables are of the same width as those in the centre; but sometimes the outer one is smaller, forming a porch. In the audience hall just quoted there are three gables each way. These may be seen on the right and left of the central spire in the view, but the first and second towards the front are hidden by the outer gable. The point of sight being taken exactly in front, it looks in the view as if there were only one in that direction.

The Burmese adopt the same arrangement in their civil buildings, and in Siam and Burmah the varieties are infinite, from the simple pavilion with four gables, supported on four pillars,[588] to those with twelve and sixteen gables, combined with a greater complication of walls and pillars for their support.

As the Siamese are certainly advancing in civilization, it may be asked, Will not their architecture be improved and purified by the process? The answer is, unfortunately, too easy. The new civilization is not indigenous, but an importation. The men of progress wear hats, the ladies crinolines, and they build palaces with Corinthian porticos and sash-windows. It is the sort of civilization that is found in the Bazar in Calcutta, and it is not desirable, in an architectural point of view, at all events, if, indeed, it is so in any other respect.

III. JAVA

CONTENTS.

History--Boro Buddor--Temples at Mendoet and Brambanam--Tree and Serpent Temples--Temples at Djeing and Suku.

There is no chapter in the whole history of Eastern art so full of apparent anomalies, or which so completely upsets our preconceived ideas of things as they ought to be, as that which treats of the architectural history of the island of Java. In the Introduction, it was stated that the leading phenomenon in the history of India was the continued influx of race after race across the Indus into her fertile plain, but that no reflex wave had ever returned to redress the balance.[589] This seems absolutely true as regards the west, and practically so in reference to the north, or the neighbouring countries on the east. Thibet and Burmah received their religion from India, not, however, either by conquest or colonisation, but by missionaries sent to instruct and convert. This also is true of Ceylon, and partially so at least of Cambodia. These countries being all easily accessible by land, or a very short sea passage, it is there that we might look for migrations, if any ever took place, but it is not so. The one country to which they overflowed was Java, and there they colonised to such an extent as for nearly 1000 years to obliterate the native arts and civilization, and supplant it by their own. What is still more singular is, that it was not from the nearest shores of India that these emigrants departed, but from the western coast. We have always been led to believe that the Indians hated the sea, and dreaded long sea voyages, yet it seems almost certain that the colonists of Java came not from the valley of the Ganges, but from that of the Indus, and passed round Ceylon in thousands and tens of thousands on their way to their distant sea-girt home. The solution of this difficulty may perhaps be found in the suggestion that the colonists were not Indians after all, in the sense in which we usually understand the term, but nations from the north-west--the inhabitants in fact of Gandhara and Cambodia, who, finding no room for new settlements in India Proper, turning to their right, passed down the Indus, and sought a distant home on this Pearl of Islands.

Whoever they were, they carried with them the bad habit of all their cognate races, of writing nothing, so that we have practically no authentic written record of the settlement and of its subsequent history, and were it not that they made up for this deficiency to a great extent by their innate love of building, we should hardly know of their existence in the island. They did, however, build and carve, with an energy and to an extent nowhere surpassed in their native lands, and have dignified their new home with imperishable records of their art and civilization--records that will be easily read and understood, so soon as any one will take the trouble to devote to them the attention with which they deserve to be studied.

* * * * *

It has been said, and not without reason, that the English did more for the elucidation of the arts and history of Java during the five years they held the island (1811 to 1816) than the Dutch had done during the previous two centuries they had practically been in possession. The work of the governor, Sir Stamford Raffles, is a model of zealous energy and critical acumen, such as is rarely to be found of its class in the English language, and is the storehouse from which the bulk of our knowledge of the subject must still be derived. His efforts in this direction were well seconded by two Scotchmen, who took up the cause with almost equal zeal. One of these, John Crawfurd, noted down everything he came across with patient industry, and accumulated vast stores of information--but he could not draw, and knew nothing of architecture or the other arts, with which he had no sympathy. The other, Colin Mackenzie--afterwards Surveyor-General of India--drew everything he found of any architectural importance, and was the most industrious and successful collector of drawings and manuscripts that India has ever known; but he could not write. The few essays he attempted are meagre in the extreme, and nine-tenths of his knowledge perished with him. Had these two men been able to work together to the end, they would have left little for future investigation. There was, however, still a fourth labourer in the field--Dr. John Leyden--who, had his life been spared, could have easily assimilated the work of his colleagues, and with his own marvellous genius for acquiring languages and knowledge of all sorts, would certainly have lifted the veil that now shrouds so much of Javan history in darkness, and left very little to be desired in this respect. He died, however, almost before his work was begun, and the time was too short, and the task too new, for the others to do all that with more leisure and better preparation they might have accomplished.

During the last sixty years the Dutch have done a good deal to redeem the neglect of the previous centuries, but, as has happened in the sister island of Ceylon, it has been without system, and no master mind has arisen to give unity to the whole, or to extract from what is done the essence, which is all the public care to possess. The Dutch Government have, however, published, in four great folio volumes, 400 plates, from Mr. Wilsen’s drawings, of the architecture and sculptures of Boro Buddor; and the Batavian Society[590] have published sixty-five photographic plates of the same monument; and as Dr. Leemans of Leyden has added a volume of text, historical and descriptive, there is no monument in the East so fully and so well illustrated as this one, and probably none that better deserves the pains that have been bestowed upon it.[591] The same Society have also published 332 photographs of other Javan antiquities and temples, but, unfortunately, for the most part without any accompanying text. A thoroughly well qualified antiquary, Heer Brumund, was employed to visit the localities, and write descriptions, but unfortunately he died before his task was half complete. A fragment of his work is published in the 33rd volume of the ‘Transactions’ of the Society, but it is only a fragment, and just sufficient to make us long for more. At the same time an Oriental scholar, Dr. Friederich, was employed by Government to translate the numerous inscriptions that abound in the island, and which, without doubt, would explain away all the difficulties in the history of the island and its monuments. Some of these were published in the 26th volume of the ‘Verhandelingen’ in 1856, and more were promised, but ill-health and accidents have hitherto prevented this being done, and if he should happen to die before publishing the results, the accumulations of half a century may perish with him.

From the above it may be gathered that a considerable amount of information exists in English and Dutch publications regarding the antiquities of Java, but it is rudis indigestaque moles--descriptions without illustration, and drawings and photographs without description, very few plans, and, except for Boro Buddor, very few architectural details; no statistical account, and no maps on which all the places can be recognised. It is provoking to think when so much has been done, how little more is required to bring order out of chaos, and fuse the whole into one of the most interesting and most easily intelligible chapters of architectural history.

HISTORY.

Amidst the confusion of their annals, it is rather fortunate that the Javans make no claim to more remote political history than the fabled arrival in the island of Adji Saka, the founder of the Saka era of the Buddhists, in A.D. 79. It is true that in the 8th or 9th century they obtained an abridged translation of the ‘Mahabharata,’ and, under the title of the ‘Brata Yudha,’ adopted it as a part of their own history, assigning sites on the island for all the principal scenes of that celebrated struggle which took place in the neighbourhood of Delhi and Hastinapura, adding only their own favourite Gendara Desa (Gandhara), to which they assigned a locality on the north of the island.[592] It is thus, unfortunately, that history is written in the East, and because it is so written, the Javans next thought it necessary to bring Salivahana, the founder of the Saka era, to their island also. Having, as Buddhists, adopted his era, their childish vanity required his presence there, but as it is certain he never saw the island, his visit is fabled to have resulted in failure, and said to have left no traces of his presence.

The next person who appears on the scene is one of the most mysterious in Indian history. In the annals of Siam,[593] of Cambodia,[594] of Java,[595] and at Amravati,[596] a prince of Rom, or Rum, coming from Taxila, plays a most important part, but without apparently any very permanent result. Nowhere is his name given, nor any particulars; most probably it is only a reminiscence of King Commerce. Nothing is more likely than that the ships of the Roman or Byzantine emperors, with their disciplined crews, should have made an impression on the semi-civilized communities of these remote lands, and the memory be perpetuated in fabled exploits to modern times.[597]

Leaving these fabulous ages, we at last come to a tradition that seems to rest on a surer foundation. “In the year 525 (A.D. 603), it being foretold to a king of Kuj’rat, or Gujerat, that his country would decay and go to ruin, he resolved to send his son to Java. He embarked with about 5000 followers in six large and about 100 small vessels, and after a voyage of four months, reached an island they supposed to be Java; but finding themselves mistaken, re-embarked, and finally settled at Matarem, in the centre of the island they were seeking.” “The prince now found that men alone were wanting to make a great and flourishing state; he accordingly applied to Gujerat for assistance, when his father, delighted at his success, sent him a reinforcement of 2000 people.” “From this period,” adds the chronicle, “Java was known and celebrated as a kingdom; an extensive commerce was carried on with Gujerat and other countries, and the bay of Matarem was filled with adventurers from all parts.”

During the sovereignty of this prince and his two immediate successors, “the country advanced in fame and prosperity. The city of Mendang Kumulan, since called Brambanan, increased in size and splendour: artists, particularly in stone and metals, arrived from distant countries, and temples, the ruins of which are still extant, were constructed both at this place and at Boro Buddor, in Kedu, during this period by artists invited from India.”[598]

All this is fully confirmed by an inscription found at Menankabu, in Sumatra, wherein a king, who styles himself Maha Raja Adiraja Adityadharma King of Prathama--the first or greatest Java--boasts of his conquests and prowess, and he proclaims himself a Buddhist, a worshipper of the five Dyani Buddhas, and records his having erected a great seven-storeyed vihara in honour of Buddha.[599] This inscription is dated fifty years later, or in A.D. 656, but its whole tone is so completely confirmatory of the traditions just quoted from Sir S. Raffles, that there seems little doubt the two refer to events occurring about the same time.

The only other event of importance in these early times bearing on our subject is Fa Hian’s visit to the island in A.D. 414, on his way from Ceylon to China by sea. The more, however, I think of it, the more convinced I am that Java the Less, or Sumatra, was really the island he visited. It certainly was the Iabadius, or Yavadwipa, of Ptolemy, and the Java the Less of the Arab geographers and of Marco Polo;[600] and all the circumstances of the voyage seem to point rather to this island than to Java proper. His testimony is, however, valuable, as they seem to have been united under one emperor in A.D. 656, and may have been so two centuries earlier. “In this country,” he says, “Heretics and Brahmans flourish; but the Law of Buddha is not much known.”[601] As he resided there five months, and had been fourteen years in India, he knew perfectly what he was speaking about.

That there were Brahmans in these islands before the advent of the Buddhist emigrants in the 7th century seems more than probable from the traditions about Tritrésta collected by Sir S. Raffles[602] and others; but, if so, they were Aryan Brahmans, belonging to some of the non-building races, who may have gone there as missionaries, seeking converts, but hardly as colonists or conquerors. Indeed, all over the island circles of stone are found, either wholly unfashioned or carved into rude representations of Hindu deities--so rude that even Ganesa can hardly sometimes be recognised; and it frequently requires an almost Hindu trustfulness to believe that these rude stones sometimes represent even Siva and Vishnu and other gods of the Hindu Pantheon.[603] It seems as if the early Brahmans tried to teach their native converts to fashion gods for themselves, but, having no artistic knowledge of their own to communicate, failed miserably in the attempt. The Buddhists, on the contrary, were artists, and came in such numbers that they were able to dispense with native assistance, nearly if not altogether.

The next recorded event that seems to bear on our investigations is the mission of the children of Dewa Kusuma to Kling or India, in order that they might be educated in the Brahmanical religion.[604] This event took place in A.D. 924, and seems to point distinctly to a time when the Buddhist religion, as evidenced by the erection of Boro Buddor, had died out, and the quasi-Hindu temples of Brambanam and Singa Sari had superseded those of the Buddhists. Those at Brambanam are said to have been completed in A.D. 1097, which seems an extremely probable date for the Chandi Sewa, or “1000 temples,” which, however, are much more Jaina than Hindu. From that period till the beginning of the 15th century, the series of monuments--many of them with dates upon them[605]--are tolerably complete, and there will be no difficulty in classifying them whenever the task is fairly undertaken.

At this time we find the island divided into two kingdoms; one, having its capital at Pajajaram, about forty miles east of Batavia, occupied the whole of the western or Sunda part of the island. The Sundas, however, were not a building race, and the portion occupied by them need not be again referred to here. It contains no buildings except the rude Hindu remains above referred to.

The eastern portion of the island was occupied by the kingdom of Majapahit, founded, apparently, about the year 1300. It soon rose to a higher pitch of power and splendour than any of the preceding kingdoms, and the capital was adorned with edifices of surpassing magnificence, but mostly in brick, so that now they are little more than a mass of indistinguishable ruins. When, however, it had lasted little more than a century, Mahomedan missionaries appeared on the island, and gradually--not by conquest or the sword, but by persuasion--induced the inhabitants of the island to forsake the religion of their forefathers and adopt that of the Arabian Prophet. In the year 1479 the Mahomedans had become so powerful that the city of Majapahit was taken by them by storm, and the last Hindu dynasty of the island overthrown, and those that remained of the foreign race driven to take refuge in the island of Bali.[606]

Then occurred what was, perhaps, the least-expected event in all “this strange eventful history.” It is as if the masons had thrown away their tools, and the chisels had dropped from the hands of the carvers. From that time forward no building was erected in Java, and no image carved, that is worth even a passing notice. At a time when the Mahomedans were adorning India with monuments of surpassing magnificence no one in Java thought of building either a mosque, or a tomb, or a palace that would be deemed respectable in any second-class state in any part of the world.

For nearly nine centuries (A.D. 603-1479) foreign colonists had persevered in adorning the island with edifices almost unrivalled elsewhere of their class; but at the end of that time, as happened so often in India, their blood had become diluted, their race impure, their energy effete, and, as if at the touch of a magician’s wand, they disappear. The inartistic native races resumed their sway, and art vanished from the land, never, probably, again to reappear.

BORO BUDDOR.

There may be older monuments in the island of Java than Boro Buddor, but, if so, they have not yet been brought to light. The rude stone monuments of the western or Sunda end of the island may, of course, be older, though I doubt it; but they are not architectural, and of real native art we know nothing.

When Sir S. Raffles and J. Crawfurd wrote their works, no means existed of verifying dates by comparison of styles, and it is, therefore, little to be wondered at if the first gives A.D. 1360,[607] and the second A.D. 1344,[608] as the date of this building. The former, however, was not deceived by this date, inasmuch as at page 67 he says, “The edifices at Singa Sari were probably executed in the 8th or 9th century. They nearly resemble those of Brambanam and Boro Boddor. It is probable the whole were constructed about the same period, or within the same century; at any rate, between the sixth and ninth century of the Christian Era.” This, perhaps, errs a little the other way. Heer Brumund, on historical grounds, places Boro Buddor “in the ninth, perhaps even in the eighth century of the Christian Era.”[609] On architectural grounds I would almost unhesitatingly place it a century earlier. The style and character of its sculptures are so nearly identical with those of the latest caves at Ajunta (No. 26, for instance), and in the western Ghâts, that they look as if they were executed by the same artists, and it is difficult to conceive any great interval of time elapsing between the execution of the two. If I am correct in placing the caves in the first half of the 7th century, we can hardly be far wrong in assigning the commencement, at least, of the Javan monument to the second half of that century. This being so, I am very much inclined to believe that Boro Buddor may be the identical seven-storeyed vihara, mentioned by Aditya Dharma in his inscription at Menankabu.[610] Its being found in Sumatra does not appear to me to militate against this view. Asoka’s inscriptions are found in Gandhara, Saurastra, and Orissa, but not in Behar. At home he was known: but it may be that he desired to place a permanent record of his greatness in the remote portions of his dominions. The date of the inscription, A.D. 656, accords so exactly with the age I would assign to it from other sources, that it may at least stand for the present. Of course, it was not completed at once, or in a few years. The whole group, with Chandi Pawon and Mendout, may probably extend over a century and a half--down, say, to A.D. 800, or over the whole golden age of Buddhism in the island.

It certainly is fortunate for the student of Buddhist art in India that Boro Buddor (Woodcuts Nos. 362 and 363) has attracted so much attention; for, even now, the five folio volumes of plates recently devoted to its illustration do not contain one figure too many for the purpose of rendering its peculiarities available for scientific purposes: the fact being that this monument was erected just at the time when the Buddhist system attained its greatest development, and just before its fall. It thus contains within itself a complete epitome of all we learn from other sources, and a perfect illustration of all we know of Buddhist art or ritual. The 1000 years were complete, and the story that opened upon us at Bharhut closes practically at Boro Buddor.

The fundamental formative idea of the Boro Buddor monument is that of a dagoba with five procession-paths. These, however, have become square in plan instead of circular; and instead of one great domical building in the centre we have here seventy-two smaller ones, each containing the statue of a Buddha (Woodcut No. 364), visible through an open cage-like lattice-work; and one larger one in the centre, which was quite solid externally (Woodcut No. 365), but had a cell in its centre, which may have contained a relic or some precious object. There is, however, no record of anything being found in it when it was broken into. All this is, of course, an immense development beyond anything we have hitherto met with, and a sort of half-way house between the majestic simplicity of the Abhayagiri at Anuradhapura, and the somewhat tawdry complexity of the pagoda at Mengûn (Woodcut No. 354).

With the idea of a dagoba, however, Boro Buddor also combines that of a vihara, such as that illustrated by Woodcuts Nos. 66, 67. There the cells, though only copied solid in the rock, still simulated the residences of the monks, and had not yet advanced to the stage we find in the Gandhara monasteries, where the cells of monks had become niches for statues. Here this is carried further than in any example found in India. The cells of the Mahavellipore example are here repeated on every face, but essentially as niches, and are occupied by 436 statues of Buddha, seated in the usual cross-legged attitude. In this respect Boro Buddor is in advance of the Takht-i-Bahi, which is the monument in India that most nearly approaches to it in mythological significance. So great, indeed, is the similarity between the two, that whatever date we assign to the one drags with it that of the other. It would, indeed, be impossible to understand how, in the 7th century, Buddhism had been so far developed towards the modern Nepalese and Thibetan systems if we had not these Gandhara monasteries to fall back upon. On the other hand, having so similar a Buddhist development in Java in the 7th century, it seems difficult to separate the monuments of the north-west of India from it by any very long interval of time.

As will be observed from the plan and elevation (Woodcuts Nos. 362, 363, page 645), the monument may be described either as a seven or a nine-storeyed vihara, according as we reckon the platform on which the seventy-two small dagobas stand as one or three storeys. Its basement measures over 400 ft. across, but the real temple is only 300 ft. from angle to angle either way. It is not, however, either for its dimensions or the beauty of its architectural design that Boro Buddor is so remarkable, as for the sculptures that line its galleries. These extend to nearly 5000 ft.--almost an English mile--and as there are sculptures on both faces, we have nearly 10,000 lineal ft. of bas-reliefs; or, if we like to add those which are in two storeys, we have a series of sculptures, which, if arranged consecutively in a row, would extend over nearly three miles of ground. Most of them, too, are singularly well preserved; for when the Javans were converted to Mahomedanism it was not in anger, and they were not urged to destroy what they had before reverenced; they merely neglected them, and, except for earthquakes, these monuments would now be nearly as perfect as when first erected.

The outer face of the basement, though extremely rich in architectural ornaments and figure-sculptures, is of comparatively little historical importance. The first enclosed--or, as the Dutch call it, the second--gallery is, of all the five, the most interesting historically. On its inner wall the whole life of Sakya Muni is pourtrayed in 120 bas-reliefs of the most elaborate character. The first twenty-four of these are occupied with scenes in the Tusita heavens, or events that took place before the birth. In the twenty-fifth we have Maya’s dream, depicted exactly as it is at Bharhut or Sanchi, 700 or 800 years earlier. In the following sculptures it is easy to recognise all the familiar scenes of his life, his marriage, and domestic happiness, till he meets the four predictive signs; his subsequent departure from home, and assumption of the ascetic garb; his life in the forest; his preaching in the Deer-garden at Benares--the whole Lalita Vistara, in short, pourtrayed, with very few variations from the pictures we already possess from Gandhara to Amravati, with this singular exception: in all Indian examples the birth and the Nirvana are more frequently repeated than any other events; for some reason, not easily guessed, they are omitted here, though all the events that preceded and followed them are minutely detailed.[611] Below these bas-reliefs depicting the life of Buddha is an equally extensive series of 120 bas-reliefs of subjects taken from the Jataka, all of which might, no doubt, be easily identified, though this has not yet been attempted.

In the three galleries above this Buddhism is represented as a religion. Groups of Buddhas--three, five or nine--are repeated over and over again, mixed with Bodhisatwas and saints of all sorts. Among these, the five Dhyani Buddhas are conspicuous in all, perhaps more than all, the variety of manifestations which are known in Nepal and Thibet,[612] which, as Lassen points out, almost inevitably leads to the conclusion that this form of faith was introduced from Nepal or Western Thibet.[613]

Whether this is exactly so or not, no one probably who is familiar with Buddhist art in its latest age on the western side of India will probably doubt that it was from these parts that the builders of Boro Buddor migrated. The character of the sculptures, and the details of the ornamentation in cave 26 at Ajunta, and 17 at Nassick, and more especially in the later caves at Salsette, at Kondoty, Montpezir, and other places in that neighbourhood, are so nearly identical with what is found in the Javan monument, that the identity of the workmen and workmanship is unmistakeable. It is true we have no monument in that part of India to which we can point that at all resembles Boro Buddor in design, but then it must be borne in mind that there is not a single structural Buddhist building now existing within the limits of the cave region of Western India. It seems absurd, however, to suppose that so vast a community confined themselves to caves, and caves only. They must have had structural buildings of some sort in their towns and elsewhere, but not one fragment of any such now exists, and we are forced to go to Gandhara, in the extreme north-west, for our nearest examples. As already pointed out, there are many points of similarity between Jamalgiri, and more especially between Takht-i-Bahi and Boro Buddor; and if any architect, who was accustomed to such work, would carefully draw and restore these northern monasteries, many more might become apparent.[614] We know enough even now to render this morally certain, though hardly sufficient to prove it in the face of much that may be brought forward by those who care to doubt it. Meanwhile, my impression is, that if we knew as much of these Gandhara monasteries as we know of Boro Buddor, we could tell the interval of time that separated them, probably within half a century at least.

Stretching such evidence as we at present have, as far as it will bear, we can hardly bring the Takht-i-Bahi monastery within one century of Boro Buddor. It may be two--and Jamalgiri is still one or two centuries more distant in time. But, on the other hand, if we had not these Gandhara monasteries to refer to, it would be difficult to believe that the northern system of Buddhism could have been so completely developed, even in the 8th century, as we find it at Boro Buddor. It is this wonderful progress that has hitherto made the more modern date of that monument probable--it looks so much in advance of anything we know of in Indian Buddhism. But all this we must now revise by the light these Javan monuments throw on the subject.

Being merely a pyramid, situated on the summit of a hill, there were no constructive difficulties encountered in the erection of Boro Buddor, and it is consequently no wonder that it now remains so entire, in spite of its being, like all Javan buildings, erected wholly without mortar. It is curious to observe, however, how faithfully its architects adhered to the Indian superstition regarding arches. They did not even think it necessary to cut off the angles of the corbel-stones, so as to simulate an arch, though using the pointed-arched forms of the old chaitya caves of the west. The two systems are well exemplified in the preceding Woodcut (No. 366), but it runs throughout. All the niches are surmounted by arch forms--circular, elliptical, or pointed--but all are constructed horizontally, and it may be added that, in nine cases out of ten, the keystones are adorned with a mask, as in this last example.

MENDOET.

At a place called Mendoet, about two and a half miles from Boro Buddor, there is a temple of a very different class, which, though small, is of extreme interest for the history of Javan architecture. It stands on a basement 70 ft. square, and 15 ft. to 16 ft. high. The temple itself is about 45 ft. square, including a projection on each face, which gives it a slightly cruciform shape. Inside is a cell, about 20 ft. square, roofed by an inverted pyramid of steps, in which are three colossal images seated, and about 11 ft. high each. The central one is Buddha, curly headed of course, and clad in a diaphanous robe.[615] The two other colossi, though having only two arms each, are almost certainly intended for Vishnu and Siva. On one of the faces, externally, is Laksmi, eight-armed, seated on a lotus, with attendants. On another face is a figure, four-armed, seated cross-legged on a lotus, the stem of which is supported by two figures with seven-headed snake-hoods. It is in fact a slightly altered repetition of a group inserted among the older sculptures on the façade of the cave at Karli.[616] That insertion I have always believed to be of the 6th or 7th century; this group is certainly slightly more modern. The curious part of the matter is, that the Mendoet example is so very much more refined and perfect than that at Karli. The one seems the feeble effort of an expiring art; the Javan example is as refined and elegant as anything in the best ages of Indian sculpture. The same remarks apply to the sacred tree under which the figure is seated. Like all the similar conventional trees at Boro Buddor, they are complicated and refined beyond any examples known in India.

The great interest, however, of this little temple arises from the fact that it almost certainly succeeded immediately to Boro Buddor. If it is correct to assume A.D. 650-750 as the period during which that temple was erected, this one must have been built between A.D. 750 and A.D. 800. It shows, too, a progress in design at a time when Buddhist art in India was marked by decay; and it exhibits such progress in mythology, that though there can be no doubt as to the purity of the Buddhism of Boro Buddor, anyone might fairly argue that this temple belonged either to that religion or to Hinduism. It is in fact one of those compromises that in India would be called Jaina; in other words, one of those transitional examples of which we have many in Java, but the want of which leaves such a gap in our history of architecture in India.

BRAMBANAM.

At a distance of twenty miles south-east from Boro Buddor is a group of temples, marking the site of the old Hindu capital of the island, which are almost as interesting as that great temple itself. They are unfortunately much less known, or, at all events, have not been illustrated to anything like the same extent. They are, however, so much more ruined, that it may be owing to this that their details have not been so completely made out; but from whatever cause, we cannot speak of them with the same confidence as of Boro Buddor.

The oldest group at Brambanam seems to be that known as Loro Jongram, consisting of six larger temples, enclosed in a wall, and surrounded by fourteen smaller cells.[617] They may be of the age of Deva Kosuma, or of the beginning of the 9th century, and possibly are not the earliest Hindu temples here, but till we have more illustrations it is impossible to speak of this with confidence.

The great interest of the place centres in a temple known as the Chandi Siwa, or, “thousand temples,” which is, or was, when complete, only second to Boro Buddor in interest. The general character of the great temple will be understood from the annexed plan of a smaller one at the same place (Woodcut No. 367). Both consist of a central temple, surrounded by a number of smaller detached cells. In this instance there are only sixteen such, each of which is supposed to have contained an image--Buddha--Jaina, or Saiva, according to the dedication of the central cell.

In the great temple the central cell measured 45 ft. each way, and with the four attached cells, one of which served as an entrance porch, it formed a cross 90 ft. each way, the whole being raised on a richly ornamented square base. This building is richly and elaborately ornamented with carving, but with a singular absence of figure-sculpture, which renders its dedication not easy to be made out; but the most remarkable feature of the whole group is the multitude of smaller temples which surround the central one, 238 in number. Immediately beyond the square terrace which supports the central temple stand twenty-eight of these--a square of eight on each side, counting the angular ones both ways. Beyond these, at a distance of 35 ft., is the second square, forty-four in number; between this and the next row is a wide space of above 80 ft., in which there are only six temples, two in the centre of the north and south faces, and one on each of the others. The two outer rows of temples are situated close to one another, back to back, and are 160 in number, and form a square, each face of which is about 525 ft. All these 238 temples are similar to one another, about 12 ft. square at the base, and 22 ft. high,[618] all richly carved and ornamented, and in every one is a small square cell, in which was originally placed a cross-legged figure, probably of one of the Jaina saints, though the drawings which have been hitherto published do not enable us to determine whom they represent--the draughtsmen not being aware of the distinction between Buddhist and Jaina images.

When looked a little closely into, it is evident that the Chandi Siwa is neither more nor less than Boro Buddor taken to pieces, and spread out, with such modifications as were necessary to adapt it to that compromise between Buddhism and Brahmanism which we call Jaina.

Instead of a central dagoba, with its seventy-two subordinate ones, and its five procession-paths, with their 436 niches containing figures of Buddha, we have here a central cell, with four subordinate ones, each containing no doubt similar images, and surrounding these 236 cells, containing images arranged in five rows, with paths between, but not joined together with sculpture-bearing screens, as in the earlier examples, nor joined side by side with the sculpture on their fronts, or inside, as was invariably the case in similar temples in Gujerat of the same age.

Sir Stamford Raffles states A.D. 1098[619] for the completion of this temple which, from the internal evidence, I fancy cannot be far from the truth. It would, however, be extremely interesting if it could be fixed with certainty, as these Javan monuments will probably be found to be the only means we have of bridging over the dark ages in India. Already we can see that Takht-i-Bahi, Boro Buddor, and Chandi Siwa form landmarks in a series extending over at least 500 years, which we may hope some day to fill up, though the materials for it do not at present exist. We have not even correct drawings of the pickle-bottle-like cells of the Gandhara monasteries, and those at Chandi Siwa are so ruined, that it is difficult to make out their form. It seems, however, quite clear that they, with the domes and spires that crown the cells of the Boro Buddor façade, form parts of one connected series. They are, in fact, merely developments of one form which, with a little information, it would be very easy to trace back to its original source.

TREE AND SERPENT TEMPLES.

There is still another class of temples in Java which, when properly investigated, promises to throw great light on some vexed questions of Indian mythology and art. They are found principally in the provinces of Kediri and Malang, in the eastern part of the island, and, from dates on some of them, seem to be among the most modern examples of Javan art, all hitherto known being dated in the century preceding the overthrow of Majapahit in A.D. 1479.

Four of these are described by Heer Brumund,[620] but only one, so far as I know, that of Panataram in Kediri, has been photographed, and no plans or architectural details of any have yet been published. It is consequently difficult to speak with certainty regarding them, but they are too interesting to be passed over in silence. The annexed woodcut will convey some idea of that at Panataram, though necessarily on too small a scale to render all its details recognisable. Generally they may be described as three-storeyed pyramids, having a flat platform on the top, with a well-hole in its centre open to the sky. In this instance the lower platform, so far as I can make out, is about 100 ft. square, with a projection or bastion on each face, behind which the stairs leading to its summit are arranged, as in the great Ceylonese dagobas (ante, p. 190). From this a flight of sixteen steps leads direct to the platform of the second, and a similar flight to that of the third storey. The basement here is ornamented with numerous bas-reliefs on panels, representing subjects, taken principally from the ‘Ramayana,’ but many also from local legends. Each of these is separated from that next it, by a panel, with a circular medallion, containing a conventional animal, or a foliaged ornament. The bas-reliefs of the second storey are better executed, and, from their extent, more interesting; their subjects, however, seem to be all taken from local legends not yet identified. The third is ornamented by panels, with winged figures, griffons, Garudas, and flying monsters, more spirited and better executed than any similar figures are in any examples of Hindu art I am acquainted with.

According to Heer Brumund, the temple of Toempang is quite equal to this. “It is,” he says, “the most beautiful in Melang. It leaves those of Singa Sari far behind, and may be called the Boro Buddor of Melang.”[621] Unfortunately we have nothing but verbal descriptions of these temples, and of those on the mountain of Sangraham, so it is impossible to feel quite sure about their arrangement or appearance; but as those who have seen them, all describe them as similar, we must be content with this assurance till some photographer visits the place, or, what would be better, till some one goes there who is capable of making a plan and drawing and a few architectural details.

The most remarkable peculiarity of these terraced temples is that all have a well-hole in the centre of their upper platform, extending apparently to their basement. Sometimes it appears to be square, at others circular, and enlarging as it descends, being 7 ft. or 10 ft. wide at top.

Both Heer Brumund and Dr. Leemans expend a considerable amount of ingenuity in trying to explain the mystery of these well-temples.[622] Both assume that the wells were covered with pavilions or cell-temples (Kamer tempels), but without any warrant, so far as I can make out. At Panataram, for instance, the parapet of the upper terrace is a frail structure, that any man with a crowbar might destroy in a morning, or any earthquake would certainly shake down; yet neither it nor a single stone elsewhere in this temple has been displaced; but of this central pavilion not one vestige now remains, either in situ or strewn around. Besides this, a temple without a floor, and with nothing inside but a facilis descensus of 20 ft. or 30 ft., and no means revocare gradum, does not seem likely to have been popular either with priests or people, and in fact no form of worship can be suggested that would be suitable to them. Neither here nor elsewhere does there seem anything to controvert the theory that these wells were always open to the upper air.

The only suggestion that occurs to me 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 on the virgin soil, or that they were wholly or partially filled with earth and the tree planted in them. The Bo-tree at Buddh Gaya is planted on a terrace, and raised 30 ft. above the plain, ascended on one side by steps; but no excavations have been made, or at least published, which would show whether or not there were three storeys on the three other sides. The Naha Vihara at Ceylon, or the temple of the Bo-tree, is, in reality, just such a temple as that at Panataram. It is apparently in five--practically, in three--storeys, with the tree planted in a well-hole on its summit. We have, unfortunately, no plan of it or of the Javan temples; but if any one will read Captain Chapman’s description of the Maha Vihara,[623] and compare it with Heer Brumund’s of temples in Malang and Kediri, abstracted by Dr. Leemans,[624] I do not think he can fail to see the resemblance. No plan has yet been made of the Ceylonese vihara, and such photographs as exist have been taken with no higher aim than to make pretty pictures; so that it is extremely difficult to arrive at any correct notions as to its form. Meanwhile the following woodcut (No. 369), copied literally from one in Sir Emerson Tennent’s book, will convey an idea of its general appearance. The structure is wholly in brick, and its ornamentation was consequently painted on plaster, which has wholly[625] disappeared, so that no means of comparison exist between the two modes of decoration. With regard to the Javanese sculptures on these temples, it is safe to assert that not one of them shows any trace of Buddhism--none even that could be called Jainism--nor any trace of the Hindu religion as now known to us. We are, for instance, perfectly familiar with the Hindu Pantheon, as illustrated by the sculptures of the nearly contemporary temple of Hullabîd (ante, p. 402); but not a trace of these gods or goddesses, nor of any of the myths there pourtrayed, is to be found in these well-temples. Whatever they are, they belong to a religion different from any whose temples we have hitherto met with in this volume, but one whose myths pervade the whole story of Indian mythology. The worship of trees seems to have been taken up in succession by the Buddhists, Jainas, and Vaishnavas, but may be earlier than either, and may, in like manner, have survived all three.

In India, at the present day, there is nothing so common as to see in the villages of Bengal little three-storeyed pyramids of mud--exact models of these Javan temples--on the top of which is planted the Tulsi shrub, the sacred plant of the Vaishnavas (Ocymum sanctum, or Sweet Basil), which succeeded the Ficus religiosa in the affections of the Hindus. Frequently, however, this emblem is planted in vases, or little models of ordinary temples, the top of which is hollowed out for the purpose. Numbers of these exist also in Java; but no one--at least in recent times--having visited the island who was familiar with the ordinary domestic religion of the Hindus, the Dutch antiquarians have mistaken every model of a dagoba--of which thousands exist in India--and described it as a lingam, and every Tulsi vase as a Yoni. In most cases they are neither the one nor the other. Even this mistake, however, is instructive, as it shows how much of their emblems, at least, these religions interchanged in the ages of toleration. They are distinct enough now, but before A.D. 750 it is difficult to draw a line anywhere.

At Panataram there is another temple, which, if any one in the island is entitled to be called a Serpent temple, certainly merits that appellation. The Batavian Society have devoted twenty-two photographs to the illustration of its sculptures, but have given no plan and not one syllable of description. There is not even a general view from which its outline might be gathered, and no figure is introduced from which a scale might be guessed. Its date appears to be A.D. 1416. The figures, however, from which this is inferred are not on the temple itself but on a bath or tank attached to it, though, from the character of its sculptures, it is almost certainly coeval.

The reason why it is called a Serpent temple is, that the whole of the basement-moulding is made up of eight great serpents, two on each face, whose upraised heads 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 Cambodia, but more like the fierce crested serpents of Central America. The seven-headed serpent does occur very frequently among the sculptures at Boro Buddor--never independently, however, nor as an object to be worshipped, but as adorning the heads of a Naga people who come to worship Buddha or to take a part in the various scenes represented there. Even then they are very unlike the Indian Naga, whose hood is unmistakably that of an expanded cobra. Those at Boro Buddor and Panataram are crested snakes, like that represented in the Japanese woodcut in ‘Tree and Serpent Worship,’ page 56.

The sculptures on these monuments are not of a religious or mythological character, but either historical or domestic. What they represent may easily be ascertained, for above each scene is a short descriptive inscription, quite perfect, and in a character so modern that I fancy any scholar on the spot might easily read them. It, probably, has been done, but our good friends the Dutch are never in a hurry, and we must, consequently, wait.

Meanwhile it is curious to observe that we know of only two monuments in our whole history which are so treated, and these the earliest and the last of the great school:[626] that at Bharhut, so often alluded to above, erected two centuries before Christ; and this one, erected in the 15th century, while the struggle with the Mahomedan religion was gathering around it that strength, which, within half a century from that time, finally extinguished the faith to which it belonged.

There is one other temple of this class at a place called Matjanpontih, regarding which some more information would be interesting. It is described by Heer Brumund as partly of brick, partly of stone, but singularly rich in ornamentation. “The sub-basement,” he says, “is composed of a tortoise and two serpents; the heads of these three animals unite on the west face and form the entrance.”[627]

This and many others of the description are nearly unintelligible without illustrations, but many of them seem to point to a class of Serpent temples, which, if better known, might throw considerable light on the mystery that still shrouds that form of faith in India.

DJEING PLATEAU.

On an elevated plateau, near the centre of the island, on the back of Mount Prahu, there exists a group of some five or six small temples. They are not remarkable either for the size or the beauty of their details, when compared with those of the buildings we have just been describing; but they are interesting to the Indian antiquary, because they are Indian temples pure and simple and dedicated to Indian gods. So far, we feel at home again; but what these temples tell us further is, that if Java got her Buddhism from Gujerat and the mouths of the Indus, she got her Hinduism from Telingana and the mouths of the Kistnah. These Djeing temples do not show a trace of the curved-lined sikras of Orissa or of the Indo-Aryan style. Had the Hindus gone to Java from the valley of the Ganges, it is almost impossible they should not have carried with them some examples of this favourite form. It is found in Burmah and Siam, but no trace of it is found anywhere in Java.

Nor are these temples Dravidian in any proper sense of the word. They are in storeys, but not with cells, nor any reminiscences of such; but they are Chalukyan, in a clear and direct meaning of the term. The building most like these Javan temples illustrated in the preceding pages is that at Buchropully (Woodcut No. 216), which would pass without remark in Java if deprived of its portico. It, however, like all the Chalukyan temples we know of in India, especially in the Nizam’s territory, is subsequent to the 10th century. Most of them belong to the 13th century, and pillars may probably have been less frequently used at the time of Deva Kosuma’s visit in A.D. 816. Be this as it may, it is a remarkable fact that there is not a single pillar in Java: at least no book I have had access to, no drawing, and no photograph gives a hint of the existence of even one pillar in the island. When we think of the thousands that were employed by the Dravidians in the south of India, and the Jains in the north-west, it is curious they escaped being introduced here. The early style of Orissa, as mentioned above, is nearly astylar; but in Java this is absolutely so, and, so far as I know, is the only important style in the world of which this can be predicated. What is not so curious, but is also interesting, is, that there is not a true arch in the whole island. In the previous pages, the Hindu horror of an arch has often been alluded to; but then they frequently got out of the difficulty by the use of wood or iron. There is no trace of the use of these materials in the island, and no peculiarly Javan feature can be traced to a wooden original. All is in stone, but without either the pillars or the arches which make up nine-tenths of the constructive expedients of the mediæval architects, and figure so largely in all the western styles of architectural art.

It may also be mentioned here, while describing the negative characteristics of Javan art, that no mortar is ever used as a cement in these temples. It is not that they were ignorant of the use of lime, for many of their buildings are plastered and painted on the plaster, but it was never employed to give strength to construction. It is owing to this that so many of their buildings are in so ruinous a state. In an island where earthquakes are frequent, a very little shake reduces a tall temple to a formless heap in a few seconds. If cemented, they might have been cracked, but not so utterly ruined as they now are.[628]

Be this as it may, the Javan style of architecture is probably the only one of which it can be said that it reached a high degree of perfection without using either pillars, or arches, or mortar in any of its buildings.

SUKU.

At a place called Suku, not far from Mount Lawu near the centre of the island, there is a group of temples, which, when properly illustrated, promises to be of great importance to the history of architecture in Java.[629] They are among the most modern examples of the style, having dates upon them of A.D. 1435 and A.D. 1440,[630] or less than forty years before the destruction of Majapahit and the abolition of the Hindu religion of Java. So far as can be made out, they are coarser and more vulgar in execution than any of those hitherto described, and belonged to a degraded form of the Vaishnava religion. Garuda is the most prominent figure among the sculptures; but there is also the tortoise, the boar, and other figures that belong to that religion. The sculptures, too, are said, many of them, to be indecent, which is only too characteristic a feature of Vishnuism.[631]

The most interesting feature connected with the remains at Suku, as well as of all the later buildings in Java, is their extraordinary likeness to the contemporary edifices in Yucatan, and Mexico. It may be only accidental, but it is unmistakable. No one, probably, who is at all familiar with the remains found in the two provinces, can fail to observe it, though no one has yet suggested any hypothesis to account for it. When we look at the vast expanse of ocean that stretches between Java and Central America, it seems impossible to conceive that any migration can have taken place eastward--say after the 10th century--that could have influenced the arts of the Americans; or, if it had taken place, that the Javans would not have taught them the use of alphabetical writing, and of many arts they cultivated, but of which the Americans were ignorant when discovered by the Spaniards. It seems equally improbable or impossible that any colonists from America could have planted themselves in Java so as to influence the arts of the people. But there is a third supposition that may be possible, and, if so, may account for the observed facts. It is possible that the building races of Central America are of the same family as the native inhabitants of Java. Many circumstances lead to the belief that the inhabitants of Easter Island belong to the same stock,[632] and, if this is so, it is evident that distance is no bar to the connexion. If this hypothesis may be admitted, the history of the connexion would be this:--The Javans were first taught to build monumental edifices by immigrants from India, and we know that their first were their finest and also the most purely Indian. During the next five centuries (A.D. 650-1150) we can watch the Indian influence dying out; and during the next three (A.D. 1150-1450) a native local style developing itself, which resulted at last in the quasi-American examples at Panataram and Suku. It may have been that it was the blood and the old faith and feelings of these two long dissevered branches of one original race that came again to the surface, and produced like effects in far distant lands. If this or something like it were not the cause of the similarity, it must have been accidental, and, if so, is almost the only instance of its class known to exist anywhere; and, strangely enough, the only other example that occurs is in respect to the likeness that is unmistakable between certain Peruvian buildings and the Pelasgic remains of Italy and Greece. These, however, are even more remote in date and locality, so the subject must remain in its present uncertainty till some fresh discovery throws new light upon it.

This, however, is not the place, even if space were available, to attempt to investigate and settle such questions; but it is well to broach them even here, for, unless attention is directed to the subject, the phænomena are not observed with that intelligent care which is indispensable for the elucidation of so difficult a problem.

* * * * *

The above is, it must be confessed, only a meagre outline of what might be made one of the most interesting and important chapters in the History of Indian Architecture. To do it justice, however, it would require at least 100 illustrations and 200 pages of text, which would swell this work beyond the dimensions within which it seems at present expedient to restrict it. Even, however, were it determined to attempt this, the materials do not exist in Europe for performing it in a satisfactory manner. We know all we want, or are ever likely to know, about Boro Buddor and one or two other monuments, but with regard to most of the others our information is most fragmentary, and in respect to some, absolutely deficient. Any qualified person might, by a six months’ tour in the island, so co-ordinate all this as to supply the deficiencies to such an extent as to be able to write a full and satisfactory History of Architecture in Java. But it is not probable that the necessary information for this purpose will be available in Europe for some years to come, and it may be many--very many--unless the work is undertaken on a more systematic plan than has hitherto been the case. Both in this island and in Ceylon the intentions have been good, but the performance disappointing and unsatisfactory. The Dutch have, however, far outstripped our colonial authorities, not only in the care of their monuments, but in the extent to which they have published them. It is only to be hoped that a wholesome rivalry will, before long, render the architectural productions of both islands available for the purposes of scientific research.

IV. CAMBODIA

CONTENTS.

Introductory--Temples of Nakhon Wat, Ongcor Thom, Paten ta Phrohm, &c.

INTRODUCTORY.

Since the exhumation of the buried cities of Assyria by Mons. Botta and Mr. Layard nothing has occurred so startling, or which has thrown so much light on Eastern art, as the discovery of the ruined cities of Cambodia. Historically, they are infinitely less important to us than the ruins of Nimroud and Nineveh; but, in an architectural point of view, they are more astonishing; and, for the elucidation of certain Indian problems, it seems impossible to overrate their importance.

The first European who visited these ruins in modern times was M. Mouhot, a French naturalist, who devoted the last four years of his life (1858-1861) to the exploration of the valleys of the Mekong and Menam rivers. Though the primary object of his travels was to investigate the natural productions of the country, he seems to have been so struck with the ruins of Ongcor Wat that he not only sketched and made plans of them, but wrote descriptions of all the principal buildings. Unfortunately for science and art he never returned to Europe, being struck down by fever while prosecuting his researches in the northern part of the country; and, though his notes have been published both in this country[633] and in France, they were not prepared for publication by himself, and want the explanatory touches which only an author can give to his own work. Though his melancholy death prevented M. Mouhot from obtaining all the credit he was entitled to for his discovery, it has borne rich fruit as far as the public are concerned.

The next person who visited these ruins was the very learned Dr. Adolph Bastian;[634] who has written a most recondite but most unsatisfactory work on the Indo-Chinese nations, in five volumes. He has also written an account of the ruins in the ‘Journal of the Royal Geographical Society’ (Vol. xxxv.), and four papers in the ‘Ausland’ (Nos. 47-50). It is impossible to find out from all these whether Dr. Bastian has satisfied himself who built these temples, what their age is, or to what worship they are dedicated. If he does know anything about these matters, he has carefully concealed it from the uninitiated, under a confused mass of undigested learning that it is impossible to fathom.

His visit to these ruins was followed by that of Mr. J. Thomson, a professional photographer at Singapore, who, at considerable expense and risk, carried his photographic apparatus to the spot, and brought away a plan of the great temple of Nakhon Wat, with some thirty photographs of it, besides views of other places in the neighbourhood.

Since that time the French have sent two thoroughly well equipped expeditions to the place: the first under a Captain Doudart de la Grée in 1866, the second in 1873. As the main object of the first was the exploration of the Mekong river, they were able to devote only a portion of their time to antiquarian researches, and the unfortunate death of their chief on the frontiers of China prevented his ever working out his results to the extent he no doubt would have done had he lived to return home. They were, however, published as he left them, by Lieutenant J. Garnier, the second in command of the expedition, with notes and additions of his own.[635]

As they, however, could not complete the investigation, a second expedition was fitted out, under Captain Delaporte, who had taken part in the previous expedition.

They returned to France in 1874, bringing with them not only detailed plans of most of the temples, but copies of nearly all the inscriptions they could find, and a large collection of antiquities and casts. The latter are now arranged in the Château of Compiègne, and accessible to the public. The drawings and inscriptions are in course of publication, and, when available, they will supply materials from which we may reason with confidence, not only as to the arts but as to the history of this wonderful people.[636] At present we are hardly in a position to do so. What has hitherto been collected has been got together in too fragmentary a manner, and it has not yet gone through the sifting process which is indispensable before it is possible to separate the wheat from the chaff.

In addition to these sources of information there is a most interesting account, written by a Chinese traveller, who spent two years in the country when the kingdom was in its most flourishing state, between the years 1295-97. He was a Buddhist, and, like his predecessors in India, Fa Hian and Hiouen Thsang, sees things a little too much through Buddhist spectacles; but, with this slight defect, nothing can be more graphic than his account of the country and the people.[637]

There are also two papers, by Col. James Low, in the ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal’ (Vol. xvii.), which are replete with traditional information extracted from Siamese books.

* * * * *

The first assertion in the traditions of the Cambodians, as gathered by Dr. Bastian, is sufficiently startling. “In the country of Rome or Romaveisei, not far from Takkhasinla (Taxila), reigned a great and wise king. His son, the Vice King--Phra Thong by name--having done wrong, was banished, and, after many adventures, settled in Cambodia,” &c.[638] The time is not indicated, but we gather from the context that it must have been about the 4th century. It may, at first sight, look like catching at a nominal similarity, but the troubles which took place in Kashmir in the reign of Tungina, and generally in western India about the year 319, look so like what is recorded further east, that, at present, that seems the most probable date for the migration, assuming it to have taken place. Many would be inclined to doubt the possibility of any communication between the two countries; but it must be borne in mind, that the country around Taxila in ancient times was called Camboja; that it was the head-quarters of Serpent-worship; that the architecture of Kashmir bears very considerable resemblance to that of Cambodia; while there is a general consent that the Cambodians came from India. If this were so, it seems certain that it was not from the east coast that they migrated. As pointed out above, the Indians who introduced Buddhism and Buddhist architecture into Java went there from Gujerat or the countries on the west coast. This hardly seems doubtful, and there is no greater improbability of a migration from the Indus to Cambodia than of one from Gujerat to Java.

Ceylon was always addicted to Snake-worship, and may have formed a half-way house. On the other hand, it is by no means improbable that the communication may have taken place behind the Himalayas; in fact, that the religion of the two countries was derived from some common centre in Northern Asia.

All this will require careful elaboration hereafter, in some place where it can be more fully treated than is possible here. All that is wanted now is to insist on the fact that there must have been a connexion between the two countries, and that the traditions of Cambodia point to Taxila as their parent seat.

For six centuries from this time we have nothing but stories of dragon-kings and their beautiful but troublesome daughters; of the treasures and relics they guarded; and of the spells and enchantments which were had recourse to to vanquish and rob them. All this is common to all the nations between Cambodia and the North Cape of Norway, but does not concern us here.

At last we come to a fact. “In the year 957 Inthapathapuri was founded by King Pathummasurivong.”[639] In the same manner as the name of the old capital of Siam was the mispronunciation of Ayodhya, so this is only the Cambodian way of spelling Indraprastha, or the old Delhi of the ‘Mahabharata.’

Leaping over the intermediate space from this initial date we have a final one in the conquest of the country by the Siamese (A.D. 1351-1374), after which time the old capital was deserted, and no more temples were erected there. Our architectural history is thus confined to the four centuries which elapsed between 951 and 1357. For the first three of these, at least, Nakhon[640] Thom--the Great City--was the capital. About the middle, however, of the 13th century, the king was afflicted with leprosy “because he had forsaken the Snake-worship of his forefathers,” and taken to the Brahmanical or Buddhist heresy, it is not quite clear which; and the capital was then transferred to a site some fifteen miles further east, and a city built, known as Paten ta Phrohm (the City of Brahma?).

Meanwhile we have at least three centuries during which Naga-worship prevailed--giving rise to the erection of a series of temples as large and as richly ornamented as any to be found in any other part of the world. The last of these--that known as Nakhon Wat--was, if not the greatest, at least the best from an architectural point of view, and is the only one of which we have at present sufficient information to speak with confidence.

From the little we know of the others it does not seem that there would be any difficulty in arranging them all in a chronological series, from the gradations of style they exhibit; nor of ascertaining their dates, since they are covered with inscriptions in a character that could be read without serious trouble; and these probably contain the names of the kings, which would enable this to be done, approximatively at least, even if there should be no dates.

The buildings of Paten ta Phrohm (the Brahmanical) are of a much more varied but less perfect style. They seem, from the descriptions of M. Mouhot and Dr. Bastian, to be Buddhist, Jaina, or Hindu, or all these styles mixed up together as in Java. In fact, they seem very much to resemble the buildings in that island, and their date is about the same, omitting only the Buddhist series, which does not seem to occur here; but, as no detailed drawings or good photographs of them have yet been published, there is very little to be said about them now. For the present our attention must be principally confined to the city of Ongcor--or Ongon, as it is popularly named, but more correctly known as Nakhon Thom--the great city--and especially to the suburban monastery of Nakhon Wat.

It is now not difficult to point out the situation of this city, as the lake near which it is situated and the hills that approach it have generally now found their way into most atlases. Generally it may be said that about half-way between the great rivers of Siam and Cambodia is a lake, the Tali Sab, about 120 miles long, and varying in width from 30 to 60. In the dry weather its average depth is only 4 ft., but in the rains it is fed by the Mekong, of which it is a backwater, and rises 30 ft. or 40 ft. more, so that it is easily navigable for large boats. At a little distance from the northern shore of this lake, in 103° 50´ East longitude and 13° 30´ North latitude, the ruins are to be found, situated in a great plain extending some fifty miles in width between the lake and the hills on its northern boundary.[641]

TEMPLE OF NAKHON WAT.

The temple of Nakhon Wat, literally “the temple of the city,” or “of the capital,” as it is now called by the Siamese, is situated in a sandy plain, about four miles to the southward of the city of Ongcor itself, and between it and the lake Tali Sab. As will be seen from the small plan (figure 2, Woodcut No. 370) it is almost an exact square, and measures nearly an English mile each way. The walled enclosure of the temple measures 1080 yards by 1100, and is surrounded by a moat or ditch 230 yards wide. The moat is crossed on the west by a splendid causeway, adorned by pillars on either side. This leads to the great gateway, not unlike the gopura of a Dravidian temple, five storeys in height, but extended by lateral galleries and towers to a façade more than 600 ft. in extent. Within this a second raised causeway, 370 yards long, leads to a cruciform platform in front of the temple (shown in figure 1, Woodcut No. 370). On either side of this, about half-way down, is a detached temple, which anywhere else would be considered of importance, but here may be passed over.

The general plan of the temple will be understood from the woodcut (No. 370). It consists of three enclosures, one within the other, each raised from 15 ft. to 20 ft. above the level of that outside it, so as to give the whole a pyramidal form. The outer enclosure measures 570 ft. by 650 ft., and covers, therefore, about 370,000 sq. ft. The great temple at Karnac (Thebes) covers 430,000 sq. ft. There are three portals, adorned with towers on each face, and on either side of these are open galleries or verandahs, which, with their bas-reliefs, are probably the most remarkable features of this temple. Their external appearance will be understood from the Woodcut No. 373; that of the interior from Woodcut No. 374; though these illustrations are on too small a scale to do justice to their magnificence.

Its appearance in elevation may be gathered from Woodcut No. 371, which shows it to be a pyramid more than 600 ft. in breadth across its shortest width north and south, and rising to 180 ft. at the summit of the central tower. It is, consequently, both larger and higher than Boro Buddor, and notwithstanding the extraordinary elaboration of that temple it is probably surpassed by this one, both in the extent of its ornamentation as well as in the delicacy of its carvings. There may have been as much, or nearly as much, labour bestowed on the colonnades at Ramisseram as on this temple; but otherwise the Indian example cannot compare with either of these two. It has literally no outline, and practically no design; while both Nakhon Wat and Boro Buddor are as remarkable for their architectural designs as for their sculptural decorations.

The mechanical arrangements of the galleries or colonnades above referred to are as perfect as their artistic design. These will be understood from the diagram, Woodcut No. 372. On one side is a solid wall of the most exquisite masonry, supporting the inner terrace of the temple. It is built of large stones without cement, and so beautifully fitted that it is difficult to detect the joints between two stones. At a distance of 10 ft. 6 in. in front of this stands a range of square piers, very much in the proportion of the Roman Doric order, with capitals also similar to the classical examples, but more ornamented. These pillars have no bases, but on each face is carved a figure of a devotee or worshipper, surmounted by a canopy of incised ornament, which is also carried along the edge of the shafts. The pillars carry an architrave and a deep frieze, which, in the inner part of the temple, is ornamented with bas-reliefs of the most elaborate character, and above this is a cornice of very classical outline. Above the cornices is a pointed arch, not formed with voussoirs, but of stones projecting one beyond the other, as with the old Pelasgi and the Indians to the present day. This is quite plain, and was probably originally intended to be hidden by a wooden ceiling, as indicated in the diagram; at least, Mr. Thomson discovered the mortises which were intended to secure some such adornment, and in one place the remains of a teak-wood ceiling beautifully and elaborately carved.

Outside this gallery, as shown in the Woodcuts Nos. 372, 373, is a second, supported by shorter pillars, with both base and capital. This outer range supports what may be called a tie-beam, the one end of which is inserted into the inner column just below the capital. So beautifully, however, is this fitted that M. Mouhot asserts the inner columns are monoliths, and, like the other joints of the masonry, the junction cannot be detected even in the photograph unless pointed out. The beauty of this arrangement will at once strike anyone who knows how difficult it is to keep the sun out and let in the light and air, so indispensable in that climate. The British have tried to effect it in India for 100 years, but never hit on anything either so artistic or convenient as this. It is, in fact, the solution of a problem over which we might have puzzled for centuries, but which the Cambodians resolved instinctively. The exterior cornice here, as throughout the temple, is composed of infinite repetitions of the seven-headed snake.

The most wonderful parts, however, of these colonnades of Nakhon Wat, are the sculptures that adorn their walls, rather than the architecture that shelters them. These are distributed in eight compartments, one on each side of the four central groups of entrances, measuring each from 250 ft. to 300 ft. in length, with a height of about 6½ ft. Their aggregate length is thus at least 2000 ft., and assuming the parts photographed to be a fair average, the number of men and animals represented extends from 18,000 to 20,000. The relief is so low that in the photograph it looks at first sight as if incised--intagliato--like the Egyptian sculptures; but this is not the case. Generally speaking, these reliefs represent battle-scenes of the most animated description, taken from the ‘Ramayana,’ or ‘Mahabharata,’ which the immigrants either brought with them, or, as the Siamese annals say, received from India in the 4th or 5th century. These, Pathammasurivong, the founder of the city, caused to be translated into Cambodian, with considerable variations, and here they are sculptured almost in extenso.[642]

One bas-relief, however, is occupied by a different subject--popularly supposed to represent heaven, earth, and hell. Above is a procession so closely resembling those in Egyptian temples as to be startling. The king is borne in a palanquin very like those seen in the sculptures on the banks of the Nile, and accompanied by standards and emblems which go far to complete the illusion. In the middle row sits a judge, with a numerous body of assessors, and the condemned are thrown down to a lower region, where they are represented as tortured in all the modes which Eastern ingenuity has devised. It is not clear, however, that this is a theological hell; it seems more probable that it represents the mode in which the Indian immigrants “improved” the natives. One subject alone can be called mythological, and it wears an old familiar face; it represents the second Avatar of Vishnu, the world-supporting tortoise, and the churning of the ocean with the great snake Naga. No legend in Hindu mythology could be more appropriate for a snake-temple; but, notwithstanding this, it is out of place, and I cannot help fancying that it was his choice of this subject that gave rise to the tradition that the king was afflicted with leprosy because he had deserted the faith of his forefathers. This relief is evidently the last attempted, and still remains unfinished.

The only other temples that I am aware of where sculpture is used in anything like the same profusion are those at Boro Buddor in Java and that at Hullabîd, described above, page 401. In the Indian example, however, the principles on which it is employed are diametrically opposed to those in vogue in Cambodia. There all the sculptures are in high relief, many of the figures standing free, and all are essential parts of the architecture--are, in fact, the architecture itself. Here, however, the two arts are kept quite distinct and independent, each mutually aiding the other, but each perfect by itself, and separate in its aim. The Gothic architects attempted to incorporate their sculpture with the architecture in the same manner as the Indian architects. The Greeks, on the contrary, kept them distinct; they provided a plain wall outside the cella of the temple for their paintings and sculpture, and protected it by screens of columns precisely as the Cambodians did; and it is difficult to say which was the best principle. A critic imbued with the feelings of mediæval art would side with the Indians; but if the Greeks were correct in their principle, so certainly were the Cambodians.

Leaving these outer peristyles for the present, and entering by the west door, we find ourselves in an ante-naos measuring 180 ft. by 150 ft., supported by more than 100 columns, and lighted by four small courts open to the sky above; but the floors, as in all Naga temples, are tanks or reservoirs for water. The whole of this part is arranged most artistically, so as to obtain the most varied and picturesque effects, and is as well worthy of study as any part of the temple. Beyond this, on either hand, is a detached temple, similar in plan to those that stand on either side of the causeway, half-way between the entrance and the temple.

Ascending from this we enter the middle court, in the centre of which stands what may be considered as the temple itself. It measures 200 ft. by 213 ft., and is crowned by five towers or spires, one on each angle, and one, taller than the others, in the centre, rising to a height of 180 ft. The central tower has four cells, like that at Sadri, one facing each way. The general appearance of these towers may be gathered from the elevation (Woodcut No. 371), and from Woodcut No. 375. They are very Indian in character and outline, but, when looked closely into, are unlike anything known in that country. The building which resembles the inner temple most, so far as at present known, is that at Sadri (Woodcut No. 133). Its dimensions are nearly the same, 200 ft. by 225 ft.; like this, it has five spires similarly disposed, and four open courts; and at Sadri, as here, there are a certain number of snake-images, which suggest a connexion between the two. But there the similarity ceases. The extraordinary amount of richness and exuberance of detail in the Cambodian temple far surpasses that of the Indian example; and the courts at Nakhon Wat are not courts but water-tanks. How far the lower courts were also capable of being flooded is not clear, nor whether the whole area, 1100 yards square, in which the temple stands, was not also capable of being turned into a lake.[643] Judging from the analogy of the Kashmiri temples, it would seem probable that this may have been the case. If it were, it is difficult to conceive a more fairy-like scene than this temple would have presented, rising from the lake which reflected its forms in the calm stillness of a tropical sunset.

* * * * *

One of the most curious circumstances connected with the architecture of this temple is, that all its pillars are as essentially of the Roman Doric order, as those of Kashmir are of the Grecian Doric.

Even if this is disputed, one thing at least is certain, that no such pillars occur anywhere in India. At Nakhon Wat there is not a single bracket-capital nor an Indian base. The pillars nowhere change into octagons or polygons of sixteen or thirty-two sides,[644] and all the entablatures are as unlike Indian forms as can well be conceived. At Nakhon Wat, also, there are intersecting vaults and ingenious roofing-contrivances of all sorts, but no dome, and no hint that the architects were aware of the existence of such a form. On the contrary, take such a pillar as that shown in Woodcut No. 376: the proportion of diameter to height; the entasis; the proportion between the upper and lower diameter; the capital with its abacus; the base with its plinth; the architrave, &c., are so like the Roman order that it is difficult to conceive the likeness being accidental.

But whoever gave the design for these pillars--and, according to M. Mouhot, there are 1532 of them in this single building--we have abundant evidence to show that the people for whom it was erected were of pure Turanian blood. Without insisting on other facts, there are in every part of the building groups of female figures in alto-relievo. They are sometimes in niches or in pairs, as in the Woodcut No. 377, attached to pilasters, or in groups of four or more. There are a hundred or more in various parts of the building, and all have the thick lips and the flat noses of true Tartars, their eyes forming an angle with one another like those of the Egyptians, or any other of the true building-races of the world. Unfortunately, no statues of men are so attached, though there are several free-standing figures which tell the same tale. The bas-reliefs do not help in the inquiry, as the artist has taken pains to distinguish carefully the ethnographic peculiarities of all the nations represented, and, till the inscriptions are read, and we know who are intended for Indians or who for Chinese or Cambodians, we cannot use the evidence they supply.

It is a well-known fact that, wherever Serpent-worship prevailed in any part of the world, it was the custom to devote the most beautiful young girls to the service of the temple. This would not only account for these numerous female statues, but their presence affords a hint of the worship to which it was dedicated. This, however, is not required; for, though the god is gone, and the Buddhists have taken possession of the temple, everywhere the Snake-god appears. Every angle of every roof is adorned with an image of the seven-headed snake, and there are hundreds of them; every cornice is composed of snakes’ heads; every convolution of the roofs, and there are thousands, terminates in a five or seven-headed snake. The balustrades are snakes, and the ridge of every roof was apparently adorned with gilt dragons. These being in metal, have disappeared, but the holes into which they were fixed can still be seen on every ridge.

There is no image in the sanctuary, of course, because it is the peculiarity of this religion that the god is a living god, and dies, or is eaten up by his fellow divinities, so that no trace of him remains. But, beyond all this, the water-arrangements which pervade every part of the great temple are such as belong to the worship of the Serpent, and to that only.

At present this temple has been taken possession of by Siamese bonzes, who have dedicated it to the worship of Buddha. They have introduced images of him into the sanctuaries and other places, and, with the usual incuriousness of people of their class, assert that it was always so; while, unfortunately, no one who has yet visited the place has been so familiar with Buddhist architecture as to be able to contradict them. If, however, there is one thing more certain than another in this history, it is that Nakhon Wat was not originally erected by Buddhists or for Buddhist purposes. In the first place, there is no sign of a dagoba or of a vihara, or of a chaitya hall in the whole building, nor anything that can be called a reminiscence of any feature of Buddhist architecture. More than this, there is no trace of Buddha, of any scene from his life, or from the jatakas to be found among the sculptures. In former days it might be excusable to doubt this; but it is not so now that any man may make himself familiar with the sculptures at Bharhut, at Sanchi, or Amravati, or with those from the Gandhara monasteries or at Boro Buddor. It is just as easy to recognise a Buddhist scene or legend in these representations, as it is to identify a Christian scene in the Arena chapel at Padua, or at Monreale near Palermo. What may hereafter turn up I do not know, but meanwhile I most unhesitatingly assert that there is not a trace of Buddhism in any of the bas-reliefs yet brought to light from Nakhon Wat, nor an integral statue of Buddha or of any Buddhist saint about the place.

I am, of course, aware that there are traditions of Asoka having sent missionaries there, and of Buddhaghosha having visited the place,[645] but they are the merest of traditions, imported, apparently, from Siam, and resting on no authenticated basis. Had Buddhists ever come here en masse, or the country ever been converted to that religion, as was the case in Java, it seems impossible the fact should not be observable in the buildings. But there seems no trace of it there. There is no Eastern country, in fact, where that religion seems to have been so little known in ancient times. The testimony of the Chinese traveller, who visited the country in A.D. 1295,[646] is sufficient to prove it did exist in his time; but, like his predecessors Fa Hian and Hiouen Thsang, he saw his own faith everywhere, and, with true Chinese superciliousness, saw no other religion anywhere.

So far as can be at present ascertained, it seems as if the migrations of the Indians to Java and to Cambodia took place about the same time and from the same quarter; but with this remarkable difference: they went en masse to Java, and found a tabula rasa--a people, it may be, numerous, but without arts or religion, and they implanted there their own with very slight modifications. In Cambodia the country must have been more civilized, and had a religion, if not an art. The Indians seem slowly, and only to a limited extent, to have been able to modify their religion towards Hinduism, probably because it was identical, or at least sympathetic; but they certainly endowed the Cambodians with an art which we have no reason to suppose they before possessed. Now that we know to what an extent classical art prevailed in the country these Indians are reputed to have come from, and to how late a date that art continued to be practised in the north-west, we are no longer puzzled to understand the prevalence of classical details in this temple; but to work out the connexion in all its variations is one of the most interesting problems that remain to exercise the ingenuity of future explorers.

BAION.

There is a temple within the city walls which, when as well known, may prove to be a grander and more splendid temple than Nakhon Wat itself. When Mr. Thomson visited the place, it was so overgrown with jungle that he could not make out its plan or even count its towers. Garnier could only form a diagram of its plan (plate 21), but he gave two views--one a woodcut in the text (page 67), the other a lithograph in his atlas. It is understood, however, that M. Delaporte has cleared out the place, and made careful plans and drawings of the whole, so that in a short time we may expect to know all about it. It is a rectangle, measuring about 400 ft. by 433 ft., and its general appearance may be gathered by imagining the effect of Nakhon Wat with fifty-two towers instead of nine, and the whole perhaps more richly and elaborately ornamented than even that temple. It certainly appears to be older--probably it belongs to the 11th or 12th century; and its sculptures are consequently better in execution, though whether they are equal in design we have yet to learn.

The most remarkable feature in the design is, that each of the towers is adorned by four great masks. One of the smaller of these is shown in the next woodcut (No. 378), and gives an idea of the style of their decorations, but cannot of the larger towers, nor of the effect of a great number of them grouped together, and dominated by one in the centre 60 ft. in diameter, and of proportionate height.

The question still remains, to what deity, or for what form of worship, was this strange temple erected? We know of nothing like it elsewhere. It certainly is not Buddhist, nor Jaina, nor, so far as known, is it Hindu. Neither Siva nor Vishnu, nor any of the familiar gods of that Pantheon, appear anywhere. It may turn out to be otherwise, but at present there seems no escape from the hypothesis that it was dedicated to Brahma. We have no temple belonging to this god in India Proper, but he does appear with the other two in sculptures at Hullabîd, and in other places, completing the trinity. His images are found much more frequently in Java than in India, though I am not aware that any temple has yet been found in the island dedicated to him. In Cambodia, however, he plays a most important part in all the local traditions. When, for instance, the sovereign who married the Snake-king’s daughter got tired of his father-in-law, he set up an image of the four-faced Brahma over the gates of the city, which so terrified the old man that he fled to his dark abode cursing his ungrateful children. Such an image does still exist over the principal gate of the city; but the Chinese traveller, who visited the place in 1295,[647] calls it a five-faced image of Buddha! The traveller was a Buddhist, and, as before mentioned, saw his own religion everywhere, and that only in every temple and in every place.

All the traditions collected by Bastian, and the numerous images of Ta Phrohm or Brahma found by the French at Mount Kromi and elsewhere, fully bear out this assignment of the temple to Brahma. But if it should eventually prove to be correct, what a wide door it opens for speculation, and what a flood of light it would throw on many questions that are now perplexing us. Is it that a worship of Brahma really existed in the north-west, in the original seats of the immigrant races before they passed into India, and that it was left to vegetate there while the settlers adopted the more fashionable religious of Siva and Vishnu in the countries of their adoption? If this were so, a later migration may have taken place by a northern route through Yunan, taking with them the older form of the faith and planting it in this far-off land.

It was not by accident that the knowledge either of Brahma or of these strangely classical forms of art were imported into this country. We cannot yet explain how all this happened, but we see enough to feel sure that in a very few years the solution will be possible--perhaps easy. It would indeed be a triumph if we could track Brahma back to the cave where he has been so long hidden, and connect his worship with some of the known religions of the world.

* * * * *

Rather more than a mile to the eastward of the city is another first-class temple, called Ta Proum, or Paten ta Phrohm, the residence of Phrohm or Brahma.[648] It is a square, measuring about 400 ft. each way, and, so far as can be made out from M. Mouhot’s plan, was of the same class as Nakhon Wat; but, as Lieutenant Garnier says, it is so ruined that its plan can hardly be made out,[649] and it is so choked with vegetation, that in a few years not one stone of it will remain upon another.

About twenty miles further eastward is another temple of the same class, but much more perfect, called Melea, and at seventy miles a third, called Preacan. These were only imperfectly explored by the first French expedition, but have been thoroughly investigated by the second,[650] and we may hope soon to have plans and all the details necessary to enable us to speak with confidence with regard to this curious but most interesting group of temples. They are evidently very numerous, and all most elaborately adorned, and, it need hardly be added, very unlike anything we have met with in any part of India described in the previous chapters of this work. They certainly are neither Buddhist, Jaina, nor Hindu, in any sense in which we have hitherto understood these terms, and they as certainly are not residences or buildings used for any civil purposes. It is possible that, when we become acquainted with the ancient architecture of Yunan, or the provinces of Central and Western China, we may get some hints as to their origin. At present I am inclined to look further north and further west for the solution of the riddle; but, till we are in possession of the results of the French expedition, it is premature to speculate.

* * * * *

These great galleried temples may be considered as the most typical, as they certainly are the most magnificent, of the temples of the Cambodians; but, besides these, there are ten or twelve great temples in Ongcor Thom and its neighbourhood, which anywhere else would be considered worthy of attention. Of these, one at Mount Bakeng, to the south of the city, is a five-storeyed pyramid, with sixty small pavilions on its steps, and a platform on its summit, which is now only encumbered with some débris; but whether they are the remains of a Sikra, or whether it was a well-temple like those in Java, is by no means clear.

To the east of the city is another somewhat similar--a pyramid, with three storeys, rising to a height of about 50 ft. It, however, is enclosed in a gallery, measuring 250 ft. each way, and seems to have had five pavilions on its summit.[651]

The other temples are not of such magnificence as to justify their being described here; their interest would be great in a monograph of the style, but, without illustrations, their dimensions, coupled with their unfamiliar names, would convey very little information to the reader.[652]

CIVIL ARCHITECTURE.

The palaces and public buildings of Ongcor seem to be quite worthy of its temples, either as regards extent or richness of decoration. They are, however, as might be expected, in a more ruinous state; being less monumental in their mode of construction, and, what is more to our present purpose, they have neither been drawn nor photographed to such an extent as to render them intelligible.

A view of one of the gates of Ongcor Thom is given by Lieutenant Garnier, Plate 8; and as it is as remarkable as anything about the place, it is to be hoped that full details will be brought home by the present expedition. Fortunately, it is the gateway described by the Chinese visitor, in 1295,[653] as at the end of the great bridge, which was, and is, adorned by fifty-two giants, bearing on their arms the great seven-headed Naga that formed the parapet of the bridge.

On each side of the gate are three elephants, and on each angle the head of a great seven-headed Naga. Above these are figures of men and women, but the great feature is the four-faced mask of Brahma, as on the spires of the Baion (Woodcut No. 378). The details of the upper part also so far resemble those of that temple that they must be nearly the same age. This, therefore, cannot well be the four-faced figure of Brahma, which his ungrateful children set up to frighten their parent when they were tired of him (ante, page 680); but it is curious to find the legend repeated in stone and standing at this day. It may, however, be that the stone gave rise to the legend; but, whichever way it arose, it is equally interesting as material evidences of a history and of a religion of which, up to this time, we know little or nothing.

The walls of the cities were also of very great extent, and of dimensions commensurate with their importance. They seem generally to have been constructed of a coarse ferruginous stone in large blocks, and only the gates and ornamental parts were of the fine-grained sandstone of which the temples and palaces are built. Wonderful as these temples and palaces are, the circumstance that, perhaps, after all gives the highest idea of the civilization of these ancient Cambodians is the perfection of their roads and bridges. One great trunk road seems to have stretched for 300 miles across the country from Korat, in a south-easterly direction, to the Mekong river. It was a raised causeway, paved throughout like a Roman road, and every stream that it crossed was spanned by a bridge, many of which remain perfect to the present day. Dr. Bastian describes two of these: one, 400 ft. in length, and 50 ft. in breadth, richly ornamented by balustrades and cornices, and representations of snakes and the Snake king.[654] The extraordinary thing is, that it is constructed without radiating arches, but like every structure in the place, by a system of bracketing or horizontal arches, and without cement. Yet it has withstood, for five centuries at least, the violence of the tropical torrent which it spans.

Even if no vestiges of these roads or bridges remained, the sculptures of Nakhon Wat are sufficient to prove the state of perfection which the art of transport had reached in this community. In these there are numerous representations of chariots, all with wheels from 3 ft. to 5 ft. in height, and with sixteen spokes, which must be of metal, for no London coachmaker at the present day could frame anything so delicate in wood. The rims, too, are in metal, and, apparently, the wheel turns on the axle. Those who are aware how difficult a problem it is to make a perfect wheel will appreciate how much is involved in such a perfect solution of the problem as is here found. But it requires a knowledge of the clumsiness of the Romans and our mediæval forefathers in this respect, and the utter barbarism of the wheels represented in Indian sculptures and still used in India, to feel fully its importance as an index of high civilization.

If, however, the Cambodians were the only people who before the 13th century made such wheels as these, it is also probably true that their architects were the only ones who had sufficient mechanical skill to construct their roofs wholly of hewn stone, without the aid either of wood or concrete, and who could dovetail and join them so beautifully that they remain watertight and perfect after five centuries of neglect in a tropical climate. Nothing can exceed the skill and ingenuity with which the stones of the roofs are joggled and fitted into one another, unless it is the skill with which the joints of their plain walls are so polished and so evenly laid without cement of any kind. It is difficult to detect their joints even in a sun-picture, which generally reveals flaws not to be detected by the eye. Except in the works of the old pyramid-building Egyptians, I know of nothing to compare with it.

When we put all these things together, it is difficult to decide whether we ought most to admire the mechanical skill which the Cambodian architects displayed in construction or the largeness of conception and artistic merit which pervades every part of their designs. These alone ought to be more than sufficient to recommend their study to every architect. To the historian of art the wonder is to find temples with such a singular combination of styles in such a locality--Indian temples constructed with pillars almost purely classical in design, and ornamented with bas-reliefs so strangely Egyptian in character. To the ethnologist they are almost equally interesting, in consequence of the religion to which they are dedicated. Taken together, these circumstances render their complete investigation so important that it is hoped it will not now be long delayed.

I. INTRODUCTORY

CHRONOLOGY.

Period of Hea B.C. 2100 Woo Wong period of Chow 1100 Confucius died 477 Chy hoang-ty built Great Wall 240 Han dynasty 201 Hoty, seventeenth king; Buddhism introduced A.D. 90 Tsin dynasty 260 Wootae dynasty; China divided into two kingdoms 416 China reunited, capital Honan 585 Tang dynasty 897 Northern China conquered by Mongols 1234 Kublai Khan 1281 Ming dynasty; Mongol expelled 1366 Manchow Tartar dynasty; now on the throne 1644

It is extremely difficult, in the present state of our knowledge, to write anything, either conclusive or satisfactory, about the architecture of China. This may arise partly from the incuriousness of travellers, and partly because there really are no buildings in the country worthy of the people or their civilization. Till very recently, the latter would have appeared to be the true cause of our ignorance; but lately the photographic camera has penetrated even within the walls of the imperial city of Pekin, and has brought away impressions which go some way to modify this opinion. Unfortunately, the camera has not been accompanied by the measuring-tape or the notebook, and our information is therefore, in some respects, vague; but it seems certain that there are buildings worthy of more attention than has hitherto been bestowed upon them. Even these, however, are not such as we might expect to find among a people whose history and whose civilization seems so exact a counterpart of that of Egypt. In both countries we have the same long succession of dynasties with dates, extending through 3000 or 4000 years, interrupted only by shepherd invasions which in both countries lasted about five centuries, when the words of Manetho are as literally applicable to the Taeping rebellion as they are to the overthrow of the Hyksos by the uprising of the native Egyptian races. During all this long period the same patriarchal form of government prevailed in both countries--the king being not only the head of the secular government, but the chief priest of the people. Both people early attained a certain stage of civilization, and maintained it without change or progress during the whole period of their existence. The syllabic symbols of the Chinese are the exact counterpart of the hieroglyphic writing of the Egyptians, as clumsy and as unlike that of any other contemporary nation, and as symbolic of their exclusive segregation from the rest of mankind. In both countries there was always the same calm contemplation of death, the same desire for an honourable funeral and a splendid tomb, and the same reverence for the dead. In these and fifty other particulars, the manners and customs of the two peoples seem identical, and the perfect parallelism only breaks down when we come to speak of their buildings. There are no tombs in China to be compared with the Pyramids, and no temples that approach those of Thebes in dimensions or in splendour.

If the Chinese were as closely allied to the Tartar or Mongolian tribes on their north-eastern frontier as is generally supposed, this difference could not have existed. It may therefore be, as has been suspected, that the true Chinese are more closely allied to the Polynesian races, especially on the sea-board, which is the only part of the country we are really acquainted with. When the inner country has been more carefully examined, it is probable that we may see cause to modify our opinion as to the architectural character of the Chinese people.

This will be especially the case if, as is highly probable, the so-called Indo-Chinese inhabitants of Cambodia are very much more closely allied in blood to the Chinese than they are to any of the races inhabiting India; since, by the erection of the buildings described in the last division of this work, the Cambodians have nobly vindicated their title to be considered as one of the great building races of the world. Considering the short time of their existence and the limited area they occupied, they may in fact lay claim to having surpassed even the Egyptians in this respect.

It will be strange if in Honan and Quang-si we do not eventually find the links which will confirm the connexion of the two races of Cambodia and China, and explain what at present can only be regarded as one of the unsolved problems of architectural history.

A little well-directed industry on the spot would very soon clear all this doubt away. Meanwhile there are other minor causes which may have contributed to the absence of monumental buildings in China, and which it may be as well to allude to before proceeding further. In the first place, the Chinese never had either a dominant priesthood or a hereditary nobility. The absence of the former class is a very important consideration, because, in all countries where architecture has been carried to anything like perfection, it is to sacred art that it has owed its highest inspiration, and sacred art is never so strongly developed as under the influence of a powerful and splendid hierarchy. Again, religious and sectarian zeal is often a strong stimulus to sacred architecture, and this is entirely wanting in this remarkable people. Though the Chinese are bigoted to a greater extent than we can well conceive in all political matters, they are more tolerant than any other nation we know of in all that concerns religion. At the present moment three great religious sects divide the empire nearly equally between them. For though Buddhism is the religion of the reigning family, and perhaps numbers more followers than either of the other two, still the followers of the doctrines of Confucius--the contemporary and rival of Sakya Sinha--are a more purely Chinese sect than the other, and hold an equal place in public estimation; while, at the present time, the sect of Laou Tse, or the Doctors of Reason, is more fashionable, and certainly more progressive, than the others.[655] Christianity, too, might at one time have encroached largely on either of these, and become a very prevalent religion in this tolerant empire, had the Jesuits and Dominicans understood that the condition of religious tolerance here is a total abstinence from interference in political matters. This, however, the Roman Catholic priesthood never could be brought to understand; hence their expulsion from the realm, and the proscription of their faith, which otherwise would not only have been tolerated like all others, but bid fair to find more extensive favour than any. Such toleration is highly laudable in one point of view; but the want of fervour and energy from which it arises is fatal to any great exertions for the honour of religion.

In the same manner the want of an hereditary nobility, and indeed of any strong family pride, is equally unfavourable to domestic architecture of a durable description. At a man’s death his property is generally divided equally among his children. Consequently the wealthiest men do not build residences calculated to last longer than their own lives. The royal palaces are merely somewhat larger and more splendid than those of the mandarins, but the same in character, and erected with the same ends.

There is no country where property has hitherto been considered so secure as China. Private feuds and private wars were till lately unknown; foreign invasion was practically impossible, and little dreaded. Hence they have none of those fortalices, or fortified mansions, which by their mass and solidity give such a marked character to a certain class of domestic edifices in the western world. Equality, peace, and toleration, are blessings whose value it would be difficult to overestimate; but on the dead though pleasing level where they exist, it is in vain to look for the rugged sublimity of the mountain, or the terrific grandeur of the storm. The Chinese have chosen the humbler path of life, and with singular success. There is not perhaps a more industrious or, till the late wars, happier people on the face of the globe; but they are at the same time singularly deficient in every element of greatness, either political or artistic.

Notwithstanding all this, it certainly is curious to find the oldest civilized people now existing on the face of the globe almost wholly without monuments to record the past, or any desire to convey to posterity a worthy idea of their present greatness. It is no less remarkable to find the most populous of nations, a nation in which millions are always seeking employment, never thinking of any of those higher modes of expression which would serve as a means of multiplying occupation, and which elevate while feeding the masses; and still more startling to find wealth, such as the Chinese possess, never invested in self-glorification, by individuals erecting for themselves monuments which shall astonish their contemporaries, and hand down their names to posterity.

From these causes it may be that Chinese architecture is not worthy of much attention. In one respect, however, it is instructive, since the Chinese are the only people who now employ polychromy as an essential part of their architecture: indeed, with them, colour is far more essential than form; and certainly the result is so far pleasing and satisfactory, that for the lower grades of art it is hardly doubtful that it should always be so. For the higher grades, however, it is hardly less certain that colour, though most valuable as an accessary, is incapable of that lofty power of expression which form conveys to the human mind.

II. PAGODAS

CONTENTS.

Temple of the Great Dragon--Buddhist Temples--Taas--Tombs--Pailoos--Domestic Architecture.

If we had the requisite knowledge, or if the known examples of Chinese temples were sufficiently numerous, we ought, before describing them, to classify the buildings, apportioning each to that one of the three religions to which it belongs. For the present this must be left to some one on the spot. Meanwhile there is no difficulty in recognising those which belong to the religion of Fo or Buddha. These are generally the nine-storeyed towers or taas, which, as will be explained hereafter, are merely exaggerated tees of the Indian dagobas. The temples, properly so-called, of this religion, are not very magnificent, nor are they generally built in a permanent style of architecture. This is still more the case, apparently, with the temples of Confucius. The only one that has been carefully described and photographed is that at Pekin, which is also probably the most magnificent. Judging from our present information, it more resembles a university than a temple. There are neither images nor altars, but great halls, on which are hung up the names of the emperors and of the most distinguished literates of the kingdom. There are no priests; and though ceremonies are there performed annually by the emperor in honour of the great philosopher, these scarcely can be called worship, or the hall a temple.

TEMPLE OF THE GREAT DRAGON.

The most magnificent temple in the capital, so far as we know in the empire, is that known as the Temple of Heaven, or the Great Dragon.[656] It is situated close to the southern wall of the city in a square enclosure measuring about a mile each way. From the outer gate a raised causeway leads to the temple, on either side of which are numerous buildings for the accommodation of the priests, which are approached by frequent flights of steps leading down to a park beautifully planted. At its inner extremity stands the temple itself, a circular building, three storeys in height, with broad projecting roofs, the upper terminating in a gilt ball, directly under which stands the altar.

The temple is raised on a circular pyramid, the three terraces of which are seen in the woodcut. There are several handsome gateways at intervals across the causeway, so arranged that from the entrance the circular temple itself can be seen through the long vista, framed as it were by them; and as the whole of the upper part is covered with blue tiles and gilding, the effect is said to be very pleasing.

In the same enclosure is another temple called that of the Earth, where sacrifices of animals are annually offered to the gods, whoever they may be, to whom this temple is dedicated.

These temples are said to have been erected about the year 1420, and, if so old, seem to be in a very fair state of preservation, considering the manner in which they are now neglected.

In reading Mr. Michie’s, or any other description of the Dragon Temple of Pekin, it seems impossible to avoid feeling that there are so many points of resemblance between it and the Serpent Temple of Nakhon Wat, that the coincidence can hardly be accidental. The variations are hardly greater than might be expected from difference of age, and the fact that the one was erected by Chinese at the northern extremity of their empire, the other by Cambodians near the southern limit of theirs. All the links, however, which connect the two temples are still wanting; yet, as we have the assertion of the Chinese traveller in 1295 that the Tao-tze religion[657] existed in Cambodia while he was there, we should not feel surprise at any similarity that may be traced between the temples of the two countries.

BUDDHIST TEMPLES.

The only Buddhist temple in China of which any plans have been made, or which I have myself had an opportunity of inspecting, is that at Honan, opposite Canton. Unfortunately it is very modern, and by no means monumental. It is a parallelogram enclosed by a high wall, measuring 306 ft. by 174 ft. In the shorter front facing the river is a gateway of some pretension. This leads to a series of halls opening into each other, and occupying the whole of the longer axis of the internal court. The first and second of these are porches or antechapels. The central one is the largest, and practically the choir of the building. It contains the altar, adorned by gilt images of the three precious Buddhas, with stalls for the monks and all arrangements necessary for the daily service. Behind this, in the next compartment, is a dagoba, and in its rear another apartment devoted to the goddess Kuan yin, principally worshipped by women--in fact, the Lady Chapel of the church. Around the court are arranged the cells of the monks, their kitchen, refectory, and all the necessary offices of the convent. These are generally placed against the outer wall, and open into the court.

Any person familiar with the rock-cut examples in India will easily recognise in this temple all the features he is accustomed to in the earlier Chaityas and Viharas, though strangely altered by their Chinese disguise. The figure which stood in front of the dagoba (Woodcut No. 61) is moved forward and placed on an altar by itself, with two companions added, in accordance with modern Chinese theology; but the general arrangements remain the same. The most interesting part, however, is the arrangement of the cells, &c., relatively to the temple. In one of the caves at Dhumnar (Bhim ka Bazar) something like this has been attempted, but it is evidently so difficult of execution in the rock, that we are not surprised to find it not repeated. It is evidently what was intended to be represented on the central rath of Mahavellipore (Woodcut No. 181), and must indeed have been the general arrangement of Buddhist ecclesiastical establishments. What is now wanted is, that some one should supply information regarding the earlier temples of the Chinese, say of the 12th to the 16th centuries. They no doubt exist, and would throw great light on the earlier Indian examples. In the meanwhile, however, it is curious to refer back to the Woodcut No. 129. From it it will be perceived that as early as the 11th century the Buddhist Chaitya in India, standing in the centre of its Vihara, had already been sublimated into an idol temple, surrounded by a series of idol niches, since there cannot be a doubt that the Jaina temple of Vimala Sah is a reproduction for another purpose of an old Buddhist monastery. The curious point is, that the 18th-century temple of Honan reproduces, for their original purpose, forms which in India had, seven centuries earlier, passed away to another faith, and became wholly conventional. It is still more strange that, if we leap over the intermediate period, and go seven centuries further back, we shall find in India the same ceremonies performed in the same form of temples as those at which any one may assist in China at the present day.

At Pekin there are several Lamaseries or Buddhist monasteries, of a much more monumental character than that at Honan, but it is very difficult indeed to guess at their arrangement from mere verbal descriptions without dimensions. The gateway of one, represented in Woodcut No. 380, gives a fair idea of the usual mode of constructing gateways in China.

It has three openings of pleasing proportions, and is as well designed as any to be found in China. Behind it is to be seen the dagoba, to which it leads: a tall form, with a reverse slope, and an exaggerated tee, so altered from those we are accustomed to in the earlier days of Indian architecture, that it requires some familiarity with the intermediate forms in Nepal and Burmah to feel sure that it is the direct lineal descendant of the topes at Sanchi or Manikyala. Around it are minarets, with a cross-legged seated figure of Buddha on each face. But without a plan or description it is impossible to say whether they come down to the ground, or on what kind of basement they rest.

The ordinary form of a temple, as seen in the villages or towns in China, is extremely simple, and seems to be the same, whether dedicated to Buddha, or to the Queen of Heaven, or to any other deity of the strange pantheon of the Celestial Empire. It generally consists of a square apartment with a highly ornamented roof, and with one of the side-walls removed. The entrance is never at the end, nor the end wall ever removed, as would be the case in the West, but always the side; and it is by no means clear that this is not the right and reasonable way of arranging matters. In very small temples a single beam supports the eaves, and a screen inside forms the back of the porch and the front of the temple. In larger temples two or more pillars are introduced, but the other arrangements remain the same. Both these may be seen in the annexed woodcut (No. 381), and when arranged as picturesquely as in this group, and with their gateways and subsidiary adjuncts, they become very pleasing features in the landscape. As architectural objects, they depend for their effect principally on colour, which is applied with an unsparing hand in the form of glazed tiles, painted ornaments, and frequently also paintings, such as landscapes and figure subjects. Gilding is also employed to a great extent, and with good effect.

TAAS.

The objects of Chinese architecture with which the European eye is most familiar are the taas, or nine-storeyed pagodas, as they are usually called. In the south they generally have that number of storeys, but not always, and in the north it ranges from three to thirteen. As before hinted, these are nothing but exaggerated tees of dagobas, and it is easy to trace them through all the stages of the change. In India we can easily trace the single wooden chattah or umbrella of Karli (Woodcut No. 56) to the nine-storeyed tower at Chittore (Woodcut No. 143), and from that the transition is easy to the Chinese examples, although the elaboration of the two was simultaneous, and the Chinese had probably erected tall towers as early as the Jains.

Of those which existed in China in our own time the best known is the celebrated porcelain tower at Nankin.[658] Commenced in the year 1412, and finished in 1431, it was erected as a monument of gratitude to an empress of the Ming family, and was, in consequence, generally called the Temple of Gratitude. It was octagonal in form, 236 ft. in height, of which, however, about 30 ft. must be deducted for the iron spire that surmounted it, leaving little more than 200 ft. for the elevation of the building, or about the height of the Monument of London. From the summit of the spire eight chains depended, to each of which were attached nine bells, and a bell was also attached to each angle of the lower roofs, making 144 bells in all, which, when tinkling in harmony to the evening breeze, must have produced an effect as singular as pleasing. It was not, however, either to its dimensions or its bells that the tower owed its celebrity, but to the coating of porcelain which clothed its brick walls, as well as the upper and under sides of the projecting roofs, which mark the division of each storey. The porcelain produced a brilliancy of effect which is totally lost in all the representations of it yet published, but which was, in fact, that on which the architect almost wholly relied for producing the effect he desired, and without which his design is a mere skeleton.

Another celebrated pagoda is that known as “Second Bar Pagoda,” on the Canton river. It is a pillar of victory, erected to commemorate a naval battle which the Chinese claim to have gained near the spot. It is, in design, nearly identical with that of Nankin, but of smaller dimensions, and is now fast falling to ruin.

These two are of the usual and most typical form, and so like hundreds of others, that it is impossible to deduce any sequence from them with such representations as we now possess. Though pleasing and purposelike, as well as original, they are somewhat monotonous in design. A tower divided into nine equal and similar storeys is a very inferior design to that of the minars of the Mahomedans, or the ordinary spires of Christian churches; and, if all were like these, we should be forced to deny the Chinese the faculty of invention in architecture. In the north, however, the forms seem much more various. One in the Summer Palace (Woodcut No. 383) is divided into either three or seven storeys, as you choose to count them. Four of the sides of the octagon are longer than the other four, and altogether there is a play of light and shade, and a variety about the ornaments in this tower, which is extremely pleasing. It is much more like an Indian design than any other known in China, and with the circle of pillars round its base, and the Lât or Stambha, which usually accompany these objects further west, it recalls the original forms as completely as any other object in this country.

In direct contrast to this is the Pagoda of Tung Chow (Woodcut No. 384). Its thirteen storeys are almost more monotonous than those of the Nankin Pagoda; but they are merely architectural ornaments, string-courses, in fact; and as the tower is not pierced with windows above the base, it becomes, like an Orissan temple, an imposing object of architectural art without any apparent utilitarian object. It thus escapes the charge of littleness in design, which only too justly applies to most of its compeers.

It is extremely difficult to form a correct estimate of the artistic merits of these towers. Edifices so original and so national must be interesting from that circumstance alone, and it seems almost impossible to build anything in a tower-like form of great height, whether as a steeple, a minar, or a pagoda, which shall not form a pleasing object from its salience and aspiring character alone, even without any real artistic merit in itself. Besides these qualifications, I cannot but think that the tapering octagonal form, the boldly-marked divisions, the domical roof, and general consistence in design and ornament of these towers, entitle them to rank tolerably high among the tower-like buildings of the world.

TOMBS.

Like all people of Tartar origin, one of the most remarkable characteristics of the Chinese is their reverence for the dead, or as it is usually called, their ancestral worship. In consequence of this, their tombs are not only objects of care, but have frequently more ornament bestowed upon them than graces the dwellings of the living.

Their tombs are of different kinds; often merely conical mounds of earth, with a circle of stones round their base, like those of the Etruscans or ancient Greeks, as may be seen from the woodcut (No. 385) borrowed from Fortune’s ‘China’--which would serve equally well for a restoration of those of Tarquinia or Vulci. More generally they are of a hemispherical shape, surmounted with a spire, not unlike the Indian and Ceylonese examples, but still with a physiognomy peculiarly Chinese. The most common arrangement is that of a horseshoe-shaped platform, cut out of the side of a hill. It consequently has a high back, in which is the entrance to the tomb, and slopes off to nothing at the entrance to the horseshoe, where the wall generally terminates with two lions or dragons, or some fantastic ornament common to Chinese architecture. When the tomb is situated, as is generally the case, on a hillside, this arrangement is not only appropriate, but elegant. When the same thing is imitated on a plain, it is singularly misplaced and unintelligible. Many of the tombs are built of granite, finely polished, and carved with a profusion of labour that makes us regret that the people who can employ the most durable materials with such facility should have so great a predilection for ephemeral wooden structures.

When the rock is suitable for the purpose, which, however, seems to be rarely the case in China, their tombs are cut in the rock, as in Etruria and elsewhere; and tombs of the class just described seem to be a device for converting an ordinary hillside into a substitute for the more appropriate situation.

Occasionally, however, the Chinese do erect tombs, which, though ornamental, are far from being in such good taste as the two forms just quoted. A tumulus is considered appropriate for this purpose all the world over, and so is the horseshoe form under the circumstances in which the Chinese employ it; but what can be said in favour of such an array of objects as those shown in the Woodcut No. 387? Judged by the standard of taste which prevails in China at the present day, they may be considered by the natives as both elegant and ornamental, but it would be difficult to conceive anything which spoke less of the sepulchre, even from a Chinaman’s point of view; while, on the other hand, their dimensions are such as to deprive them of all dignity as architectural objects.

PAILOOS.

The Pailoos, or “triumphal gateways,” as they are most improperly called, are another class of monument almost as frequently met with in Chinese scenery as the nine-storeyed pagodas, and consequently nearly as familiar to the European eye. Their origin is as distinctly Indian as the other, though, from their nature, being easily overthrown, but few examples can be found in a country that has so long ceased to be Buddhist. Fortunately, however, we still possess in the gateway of Sanchi (Woodcut No. 10) the typical example of the whole class; and we find them afterwards represented in bas-reliefs and in frescos in a manner to leave no doubt of the frequency of their application.

In China they seem almost universally to be employed as honorific monuments of deceased persons--either men of distinction, or widows who have not married again, or virgins who have died unmarried. Frequently they are still constructed in wood, and when stone is used they retain to this hour the forms and details of wooden construction. Whatever the material, they consist of either two or four posts, set either on the ground, so as to allow a passage through, or on a platform, as in Woodcut No. 388. This is as usual a form as the other, and shows how inapplicable the term gateway is to these monuments. The posts always carry a rail or frieze, bearing an inscription, which is, in fact, the object for which the monument was erected. Above this are various architectural details, which complete the design in a manner both original and artistic.

One serving as the portal to a dagoba has already been given (Woodcut No. 380), and though rich, can hardly be considered as superior to that in Woodcut No. 389, which spans a street in Amoy. Instead of leading to a dagoba, as was the case at Sanchi, and generally in India, we have, in this instance, what appears to be a simulated coffin placed under a canopy, and above the principal cornice, which is an essentially Chinese idea. With them a handsome coffin is an object of the highest ambition, and is, consequently, a luxury which the rich take care to provide themselves with during their lifetime. So far as we know, no great structural dagobas ever existed in China, so that their form is generally unfamiliar to the people.

Probably the Chinese would have spent more pains on their tombs had they not hit on the happy device of separating the monument from the sepulchre. We do so in exceptional cases, when we erect statues and pillars or other monuments to our great men on hill-tops or in market-places; but as a rule, a man’s monument is placed where his body is laid, though it would probably be difficult to assign a good logical reason for the practice. The great peculiarity of China is that in nine cases out of ten they effect these objects by processes which are exactly the reverse of those of Europe, and in most cases it is not easy to decide which is best. In erecting the Pailoo, or monument, in a conspicuous place apart from the sepulchre, they seem to have shown their usual common sense, though an architect must regret that the designs of their tombs suffered in consequence, and have none of that magnificence which we should expect among a people at all times so addicted to ancestral worship as the Chinese.

In an historical point of view, the most curious thing connected with these Pailoos seems to be, that at Sanchi, about the Christian Era, we find them used as gateways to a simulated tomb. In India both the tumulus and the Pailoo had at that time passed away from their original sepulchral meaning; the one had become a relic-shrine, the other an iconostasis. Two thousand years afterwards in China we find them both still used for the purposes for which they were originally designed.

DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE.

It is in their domestic architecture, if in any, that the Chinese excel; there we do not look either for monumental grandeur or for durability, and it is almost impossible to resist being captivated by the gaiety and brilliancy of a Chinese dwelling of the first class, and the exuberant richness and beauty of the carvings and ornaments that are heaped on every part of it.

One of the most remarkable peculiarities of their houses is the almost universal concave form of roof, which writers on the subject have generally referred to as a reminiscence of the tent of the Tartars, who are supposed to have introduced it. The authors of this theory, however, forgot that the Chinese have been longer out of tents, and know less of them, than any other people now on the face of the globe. The Tartar conquest, like our Norman one, has long been a fusion rather than a subjection, and does not seem to have produced any visible effect on the manners or customs of the original inhabitants of China. It may also be observed that the typical form of the roof of a Tartar tent was and is domical, like those represented in the Assyrian sculptures, and seldom, if ever, constructed with a hollow curve; so that the argument tells the other way. Be this as it may, the form of roof in question arose from a constructive exigence, which others would do well to imitate. In a country like China, where very heavy rains fall at one season of the year, tiled roofs, such as they almost universally use, require a high pitch to carry off the water; but the glaring sunshine of another season renders shade to walls and windows absolutely necessary. If (as on the left of the annexed diagram) the slope of the roof is continued so far out as to be effective for the last purpose, the upper windows are too much darkened, and it is impossible to see out of them. To remedy this defect, the Chinese carry out their eaves almost horizontally from the face of the walls, where a leak becomes of slight importance; and then, to break the awkward angle caused by the meeting of these two slopes, they ease it off with a hollow curve, which not only answers the double purpose of the roof more effectually, but produces what the Chinese think--and perhaps rightly--the most pleasing form of roof.

The only parts of such a roof that admit of decoration by carving are evidently either the central or angular ridges; and here they exaggerate their favourite hollow curve to an extent unpleasing to a European eye--the angles being, in some instances, actually turned back, and the ridge being also ornamented by upturned ornaments at its ends, to an extent we cannot reconcile with our notions; nor indeed is it possible we should, when they are overloaded with grotesque ornaments to the extent too often found.

Another peculiarity that gives a very local character to their architecture is their mode of framing a roof, so unlike that of any other people. This arises from the timber most easily available for the purpose being a small pine, which has the peculiarity of being soft and spongy in the inside, while the outer rims of wood, just under the bark, retain their hardness and strength; it is thus practically a hollow wooden cylinder, which, if squared to form a framing as we do, would fall to pieces; but merely cleaned and used whole, it is a very strong and durable building-material, though one which requires all a Chinaman’s ingenuity and neatness to frame together with sufficient rigidity for the purposes of a roof.

The uprights which support these roofs are generally formed of the same wood, though not unfrequently they are granite posts--they cannot be called pillars--of the same dimensions, and strengthened, or rather steadied, by transverse pieces of wood, the space between which and the roof is generally filled with open-work carving, so as to form a species of frieze.

The roof is usually constructed (as shown in diagram No. 390) by using three or four transverse pieces or tie-beams, one over the other, the ends of each beam being supported on that below it by means of a framed piece of a different class of wood. By this method, though to us it may look unscientific, they make up a framing that resists the strongest winds uninjured. Sometimes, as shown in the dotted lines of the same woodcut, they carry the curve across the top of the roof; but, when this is done, they are obliged to have recourse to metal roofing, or to tiles of a greater length than are usually found or easily made.

As before remarked, however, it is not so much on its forms that Chinese architecture depends as on its colours--the pillars being generally painted red, the friezes and open work green; blue marks the floors and stronger lines, and gilding is used profusely everywhere. Whether this would improve a finer or more solid style of art may admit of doubt; but it is certainly remarkably pleasing in China, and singularly appropriate to the architecture we have been describing; and grouped as these buildings usually are around garden courts, filled with the gayest flowers, and adorned with rock-work and fountains more fantastic than the buildings themselves, the fancy may easily be charmed with the result, though taste forbids us to approve of the details.

The same ephemeral system of construction which prevailed in dwellings of the rich merchants and mandarins was carried out in the royal palaces without any increase of monumental character, but, of course, with greater richness of ornament, and upon a larger scale. Like most Oriental palaces, however, those at Pekin consist of a number of detached pavilions, rather than of numerous suites of apartments grouped under one roof, as is usually the case in Europe; and they consequently never attain the magnitude essential to architectural dignity. In the Summer Palace at Pekin there were many detached pavilions similar to that represented in Woodcut No. 391, which, when interspersed with trees and water and rocky scenery, aid in making up a very fairy-like landscape, but in themselves can hardly be considered as objects of dignified architecture.

Occasionally, however, the Chinese attempted something more monumental, but without much success. Where glass is not available of sufficient size and in sufficient quantities to glaze the windows, there is a difficulty in so arranging them that the room shall not be utterly dark when the shutters are closed, and that the rain shall not penetrate when they are open. In wooden construction these difficulties are much more easily avoided; deep projecting eaves, and light screens, open at the top, obviate most of them: at least, so the Chinese always thought, and they have consequently so little practice, that when they tried solid architecture in a palace they could only produce such a pavilion as that figured in Woodcut No. 392, which, though characteristic of the style, cannot be praised either for the elegance of its form or the appropriateness of its ornamentation.

Perhaps their most successful efforts in this direction were when they combined a solid basement of masonry with a light superstructure of wood, as in the Winter Palace at Pekin (Woodcut No. 393). In this instance the height and solidity of the basement give sufficient dignity to the mass, and the light superstructure is an appropriate termination upwards.

This last illustration is interesting, because it enables us to realise more distinctly than any other example yet known, what must have been the effect of the palaces of Nineveh and Khorsabad in the days of their splendour. Like this palace, they were raised on a solid basement of masonry, and were themselves composed of pavilions of light and ornamental woodwork; the great difference being that they had flat-terraced roofs instead of those covered with tiles, as in snowy Pekin; but the resemblance is curious, and examples even more nearly akin might probably be found if looked for.

The engineering works of the Chinese have been much extolled by some writers, but have less claim to praise as works of science than their buildings have as works of art. Their canals, it is true, are extensive; but with 300 millions of inhabitants this is small praise, and their construction is most unscientific. Their bridges, too, are sometimes of great length, but generally made up of a series of small arches constructed on the horizontal-bracket principle, as nine-tenths of the bridges in China are, and consequently narrow and unstable. When they do use the true arch, it is timidly, and without much knowledge of its principles.

Their most remarkable engineering work is certainly the Great Wall, which defends the whole northern frontier of the country, extending over hill and dale for more than 1200 miles as the crow flies. It is, however, of very varying strength in different places, and seems to be strongest and highest in the neighbourhood of Pekin, where it has generally been seen by Europeans. There it is 20 ft. in height, and its average thickness is 25 ft. at the base, tapering to 15 ft. at the summit. There are also towers at short distances whose dimensions are generally about double those just quoted for the wall.

However absurd such a wall may be as a defensive expedient, it proves that 200 years B.C. the Chinese were capable of conceiving and executing works on as great a scale as any ever undertaken in Egypt. The wonder is, that a people who 2000 years ago were competent to such undertakings should have attempted nothing on the same scale since that time. With their increasing population and accumulating wealth we might have expected their subsequent works to have far surpassed those of the Egyptians. It, however, remains a problem to be solved, why nothing on so grand a scale was ever afterwards attempted.

In the rear of the Great Wall, in the Nankau Pass, there is an archway of some architectural pretension, and which is interesting as having a well-ascertained date, A.D. 1345.[659] Its dimensions are considerable, and it is erected in a bold style of masonry (Woodcut No. 394). The upper part is a true arch, though it was thought necessary to disguise this by converting its form into that of a semi-octagon, or three-sided arch. On the keystone is a figure of Garuda, and on either side of him a Naga figure, with a seven-headed snake hood, and beyond that a class of flowing tracery we are very familiar with in India about the period of its erection. Its similarity to the Nepalese gateway at Bhatgaon (Woodcut No. 174) has already been remarked upon, and altogether it is interesting, as exemplifying a class of Indian ornamentation that came into China from the North. If we had a few specimens of art penetrating from the south, we might find out the secret of the history of Buddhist art in China.

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A few years hence it may be possible to attempt to write a history of architecture in China. At present, all that can be done is to describe the style as practised at the present day, and to point out in what respect it differs from the styles prevailing in neighbouring countries. Beyond this we shall not be able to advance till some qualified person, accompanied by a photographer, is enabled to visit the central and western provinces of the empire. Even then his visit will be of very little use, unless he is sufficiently familiar with the style as now known, to be able to discriminate between what is new and what is old, and by an extended series of inductions to check the absurdities of native tradition, and form his own opinion on the facts presented to him. Assuming all this, it is still doubtful whether the materials exist in China for any extended history of the art. Such facts as have come to light are not encouraging. Wood has been far too extensively used throughout for any very permanent style of architecture ever having been employed. But there are things in Cambodia, and other neighbouring states, which seem to have come neither from India, nor from any other country we are acquainted with, but are nevertheless of foreign origin, and must have been imported from some extraneous land; and it is difficult to say where we are to look for their originals if not in central or western China.

The same remarks apply to Japan. So far as our knowledge at present extends, there is not a single permanent building in the island of so monumental a character to deserve being dignified by being classed among the true architectural examples of other countries. It may be that the dread of earthquakes has prevented them raising their buildings to more than one or two storeys in height, or constructing them of more solid materials than wood. It may be, however, that the Japanese do not belong to one of the building races of mankind, and have no taste for this mode of magnificence. It is the same story as in China; we shall not know whether it is true that there are no objects worthy to be styled architecture in Japan till the island is more scientifically explored than it has been; nor, if they do not exist, shall we till then be able to say to which of the two above causes their absence is to be ascribed. Such information as we have is very discouraging; and it is to be feared that, though quaint and curious in itself, and so far worthy of attention, it is of little interest beyond the shores of the islands themselves. On the other hand, it is to be feared that the extent of our knowledge is sufficient to make it only too clear that the art, as practised in Japan, has no title to rank with that already described in the preceding pages, and consequently no claim to a place in a general history of architectural art.

However admirable and ingenious the modern Chinese may be, it is in the minor arts--such as carving in wood and ivory, the manufacture of vessels of porcelain and bronze, and all that relates to silk and cotton manufactures. In these they certainly excel, and reached a high degree of perfection while Europe was still barbarous, but in all the higher branches of art they take a very low position, and seem utterly unprogressive.

They have no poetry, properly so called, and no literature worthy of the name. Their painting never rose much above the scale of decoration, their sculpture is more carving than anything we know by the higher name, and their architecture stands on the same low level as their other arts. It is rich, ornamental, and appropriate for domestic purposes, but ephemeral and totally wanting in dignity and grandeur of conception. Still it is pleasing, because truthful; but after all, its great merit in the eyes of the student of architecture will probably turn out to rest on the light it throws on the earlier styles, and on the ethnographic relations of China to the surrounding nations of Eastern Asia.