architecture is so happily combined with the beauties of nature, and produces so pleasing an impression on the lover of the picturesque, though nearer acquaintance may result in disappointment to the antiquarian student of the style.

In remote parts of the empire, and especially in the immediate vicinity of the older shrines, this Mahomedan influence was much less felt than in the places just mentioned. The modern temples, for instance, at Palitana have domes, it is true, but they are much more directly the lineal descendants of the old Jaina domes than copies of those of the Moguls, and the foliated pointed arch rarely, if ever, occurs in the walls of that old city. It requires, indeed, a practised eye to discriminate between what is old and what is new, and without the too manifest inferiority of modern sculpture this would not always be easy even to the most accomplished antiquary.

One example must for the present suffice to show the effect aimed at by this style in recent times, as well as to illustrate how little it has degenerated from its ancient excellence. For, though this woodcut (No. 145) does not prove it, there are photographs in this country which do exhibit the marvellous details of this temple in a manner not to be mistaken. It was erected about thirty years ago by Huttising, a rich Jaina merchant, and dedicated to Dharmanath, the 15th Tirthankar. In this instance the external porch between two circular towers is of great magnificence and most elaborately ornamented, and leads to an outer court with sixteen cells on either side. In the centre of this is a domed porch of the usual form, with twenty pillars (see Woodcut No. 117). This leads to an inner porch of twenty-two pillars, two storeys in height, and with a roof of a form very fashionable in modern Jaina temples, though by no means remarkable for beauty, and difficult to render intelligible without more illustration than it merits. This leads to a triple sanctuary, marked by three sikras, or spires, externally. Behind this is a smaller court with two groups of eight cells, one in each angle, with a larger cell in the centre, and two, still more important, at the point of junction between it and the first court. To the eye of a European, unaccustomed to its forms, some of them may seem strange; but its arrangement, at least, will probably be admitted to be very perfect. Each part goes on increasing in dignity as we approach the sanctuary. The exterior expresses the interior more completely than even a Gothic design; and whether looked at from its courts or from the outside, it possesses variety without confusion, and an appropriateness of every part to the purpose for which it was intended.

Jaina Temple, Delhi.

There is one other example that certainly deserves notice before leaving this branch of the subject, not only on account of its beauty, but its singularity. In the preceding pages it has frequently been necessary to remark upon that curious wooden strut by which the Jains sought to relieve the apparent weakness of the longer beams under their domes. It occurs at Abu (Woodcut No. 129), at Girnar, at Oudeypore, and many other places we shall have to remark upon in the sequel; everywhere, in fact, where an octagonal dome was used. It was also employed by the Hindus in their torans, and so favourite an ornament did it become that Akbar used it frequently both at Agra and Futtehpore Sikri. For centuries it continued without much alteration, but at last, in such an example as the great Bowli at Bundi,[287] we find it degenerating into a mere ornament. It was left, however, for a Jaina architect of the end of the last or beginning of this century, in the Mahomedan city of Delhi, to suggest a mode by which what was only conventionally beautiful might really become an appropriate constructive part of lithic architecture.

As will be observed in the last cut (No. 146), the architect has had the happy idea of filling in the whole of the back of the strut with pierced foliaged tracery of the most exquisite device—thus turning what, though elegant, was one of the feeblest parts of Jaina design into a thoroughly constructive stone bracket; one of the most pleasing to be found in Indian architecture, and doing this while preserving all its traditional associations. The pillars, too, that support these brackets are of great elegance and constructive propriety, and the whole makes up as elegant a piece of architectural design as any certainly of its age. The weak part of the composition is the dome. It is elegant, but too conventional. It no longer has any constructive propriety, but has become a mere ornament. It is not difficult, however, to see why natives should admire and adopt it. When the eyes of a nation have been educated by a gradual succession of changes in any architectural object, persevered in through five or six centuries, the taste becomes so accustomed to believe the last fashion to be the best, the change has been so gradual, that people forget how far they are straying from the true path. The European, who has not been so educated, sees only the result, without having followed the steps by which it has been so reached, and is shocked to find how far it has deviated from the form of a true dome of construction, and, finding it also unfamiliar, condemns it. So, indeed, it is with nine-tenths of the ornaments of Hindu architecture. Few among us are aware how much education has had to do with their admiration of classical or mediæval art, and few, consequently, perceive how much their condemnation of Indian forms arises from this very want of gradual and appropriate education.

Jaina Caves.

The Jains never were great cave-diggers; the nature of their religion did not require great assembly halls like the chaityas of the Buddhists, nor was it necessary that their priests should live apart in monasteries like those of their predecessors, and their ceremonial affected light and air rather than gloom or mystery. Like the Brahmans, however, during the stage of transition they could hardly refuse entirely to follow a fashion set by the Buddhists, to which all India had been accustomed for nearly 1000 years, and which was in reality a singularly impressive form of temple-building. We find them, consequently, excavating caves at Khandagiri, near Cuttack, in succession to the older ones in the Udayagiri. At Ellora they followed immediately after the Buddhists; and elsewhere there are caves which may be claimed by either religion, so like are they to each other in their transitional state.

Great light has recently been thrown on the history of these excavations by the discovery of a Jaina cave at Badami, in Dharwar, with a well-ascertained date.[288] There is no inscription on the cave itself, but there are three other Brahmanical caves in the same place, one of which has an inscription with an undoubted date, 500 Saka or A.D. 579; and all four caves are so like one another in style that they must have been excavated within the same century. The Jaina cave is probably the most modern; but if we take the year A.D. 650 as a medium date, we may probably consider it as certain within an error of twenty years either way.

The cave itself is very small, only 31 ft. across and about 19 ft. deep, and it is a little uncertain whether the groups of figures at either end of the verandah are integral, or whether they may not have been added at some subsequent period. The inner groups, however, are of the age of the cave, and the architecture is unaltered, and thus becomes a fixed standing-point for comparison with other examples; and when we come to compare it with the groups known as the Indra Subha and Jaganât Subha at Ellora, we cannot hesitate to ascribe them to about the same age. Hitherto, the Jaina group at Ellora has been considered as the most modern there: an impression arising partly from the character of the sculptures themselves, which are neither purely Jaina nor purely Hindu—more, however, from the extreme difficulty of comparing rock-cut examples with structural ones. Our knowledge of the architecture of temples is, in nine cases out of ten, derived from their external forms, to which the interiors are quite subordinate. Cave-temples, however, have practically no exteriors, and at the utmost façades modified to admit more light than is usual in structural edifices, and then strengthened and modified so as to suit rock-cut architecture. As no ancient Jaina temple hitherto known had a dated inscription upon it, nor a tolerably authenticated history, it is no wonder that guesses might be wide of the truth. Now, however, that we know positively the age of one example, all this can be rectified, and there seems no doubt that all the Indra Subha group were finished before the cataclysm—say before A.D. 750.

When with this new light we come to examine with care the architecture of these façades, we find the Ellora group exhibits an extraordinary affinity with the southern style. The little detached shrine in the courtyard of the Indra Subha, and the gateway shown in the above woodcut (No. 147), are as essentially Dravidian in style as the Kylas itself, and, like many of the details of these caves, so nearly identical that they cannot possibly be distant in date. May we, therefore, assume from this that the Chalukyan kingdom of Kalian, in the 7th century of our era, extended from Ellora on the north to Badami on the south, and that all these rock-cut examples, with the temple at Aiwulli (Woodcut No. 120), were excavated or erected under their auspices?

To this we shall have occasion to revert presently, when describing the Dravidian style; but meanwhile it may be assumed that this theory represents the facts of the case more nearly than any hitherto brought forward. The Chalukyas of Kalian were situated on the border-line, halfway between the north and the south, and they, or their subjects, seemed to have practised the styles of architecture belonging to those two divisions indiscriminately—it might almost be said alternately—and we consequently find them mixed up here and at Dhumnar in a manner that is most puzzling.

The last king of this race, Vicramaditya II., ascended the throne A.D. 733,[289] and died probably in or about the year A.D. 750. It was probably, therefore, before that date that these Dravidian temple-forms were introduced by the Jains at Ellora. The Kylas and other great Saiva temples were, I believe, excavated by the Cheras or Cholas, who were the Dravidian races, and, if I mistake not, superseded the Chalukyas on the death of Vicramaditya, their last king, and carried their power, as will presently be explained, up to the Nerbudda. The Jains, however, seem to have been earlier in the field, and this little shrine in the court of the Indra Subha looks very much as if it may have been the model that suggested the Kylas, the greatest of all Indian rock-cut examples of its class.

Converted Mosques.

Another form in which we can study the architecture of the Jains in the north of India is the courtyards of the early mosques which the Mahomedans erected on their first entry into India. So essentially do some of these retain their former features that it might be convenient to describe them here. It is doubtful, however, in some instances whether the pillars are—some or all of them—in their original position, or to what extent they have been altered or eked out by the conquerors. Be this as it may, for our present purposes the one fact that is certain is, that none of them are now Jaina temples. All are Mahomedan mosques, and it will, therefore, be more logical, as well as more convenient, to group them with the latter rather than with the former class of buildings.

Were it not for this, the Arhaí-dín-ka Jomphra, at Ajmir—so called—might be, and has been, described as a Jaina temple.[290] So might a great part of the mosque at the Kutub, Delhi. That at Canouge, however, was originally a rearrangement, and has been much altered since I knew it; that at Dhar, near Mandu, is of comparatively recent date; while the Jaina pillars, so frequently used at Ahmedabad in the 15th century, are all imported, and used in positions for which they never were intended.

The astylar temples of the Hindus were useless to the Moslems except as quarries—a purpose to which they were frequently applied; but the light columnar style of the Jains not only supplied materials more easily adapted to their purposes, but furnished hints of which the Moslem architects were not slow to avail themselves. The architecture of Ahmedabad, for instance (A.D. 1396 to 1572), is derived far more directly from the Jaina than from any style familiar to their co-religionists in any other part of the world. The same may be said of that of Juanpore, though in the last-named city there is hardly a stone that can be said to be derived direct from any previously existing building.

The process by which this conversion of a Jaina temple to a Moslem mosque was effected will be easily understood by referring to the plan of that of Vimala Sah, on Mount Abu (Woodcut No. 129, p. 235). By removing the principal cell and its porch from the centre of the court, and building up the entrances of the cells that surround it, a courtyard was at once obtained, surrounded by a double colonnade, which always was the typical form of a mosque. Still one essential feature was wanting—a more important side towards Mecca; this they easily obtained by removing the smaller pillars from that side, and re-erecting in their place the larger pillars of the porch, with their dome in the centre; and, if there were two smaller domes, by placing one of them at each end. Thus, without a single new column or carved stone being required, they obtained a mosque which, for convenience and beauty, was unsurpassed by anything they afterwards erected from their own original designs.

CHAPTER V.

JAINA STYLE IN SOUTHERN INDIA.

A good deal has been done lately in the way of photographing the monuments of the Jains in southern India, but nothing, so far as I am aware, has recently been written that gives any statistical account of their present position in the country, nor any information when their establishments were first formed in Mysore and Canara.[291] What is even more to be regretted for our present purposes is, that no plans have been made of their buildings and no architectural details drawn, so that altogether our knowledge of the subject is somewhat superficial; but it is interesting from its extent, and curious from the unexpected relationship it reveals with other styles and countries.

Mr. Burgess’s report has proved that Jains did exist at Aiwulli and Badami (supra, p. 261) as early as the end of the 6th, or certainly in the 7th century; but after that there is a pause or break of four or five centuries, when the style reappears in strength at Belgaon and in that neighbourhood in the 11th and 12th centuries. In the same manner southern Jains seem to have pressed northward as far as Ellora in the 7th or 8th century, taking their Dravidian style with them (supra, p. 261); but there again we stop, in so far as any direct evidence has been found, till the great outburst of Jaina magnificence at the end of the 10th century, which then seems to have continued in the north till disturbed by the Mahomedan invasion. It is by no means clear whether the destruction of their temples, as at Ajmir and Delhi, and the persecution of their faith generally, may not have been the cause that induced the Jains to migrate southward. It certainly was about that time when its greatest development in the south took place. Of course it existed there before, and some of the early kings of Hoisala Bellalas were Jains nominally at least. All their buildings, however, so far as we know them, either at Somnathpur, Bellûr, or Hullabîd, belong to the Vaishnava or Saiva faiths.

Another circumstance which is perplexing, or at least unusual, is, that the Jainism of the south does not seem to be founded on any pre-existing Buddhism. No important Buddhist remains have yet been discovered south of Poona, with the single exception of the Amravati tope and a few caves in its immediate neighbourhood. More may probably exist, or have existed; but the rapid manner in which Hiouen Thsang passes through these countries, and the slight mention he makes of Buddhist establishments,[292] render it doubtful if any important communities belonging to that faith existed in Dravida-desa.[293] In the capital, indeed, Konkanapura, which seems to have been situated somewhere in Northern Mysore, there may have been some extensive Buddhist establishments; but as they have left no memorials on the spot, and no monuments, we may be allowed to suspect they were not so important as he describes them to be in the 7th century.

If, however, there was no Buddhism in the south on which Jainism could be based, there are everywhere traces of the prevalence of Serpent worship in those districts where the religion of Jaina now prevails. Sculptured serpents, with many heads and in all their conventional forms, are found everywhere about and in the temples; and Subramuni, below the Ghâts, is still one of the principal seats of Serpent worship in southern India. It is not, unfortunately, easy to say how far Tree worship was mixed up with the latter faith. Trees perish more easily and quickly than sculptured stones, and when the worship ceases its traces disappear more readily. There are some indications that it did prevail here also, but, till purposely inquired after, it is impossible to say to what extent or how far the indications can be relied upon. Enough, however, is known, even now, to justify the assertion that Tree and Serpent worship did exist antecedently in those districts in which Jainism prevailed in the south, but did not appear in the more purely Dravidian countries where the people are now devoted to the worship of Siva and the Hindu Pantheon.

The truth of the matter appears to be, that until the numerous Jaina inscriptions which exist everywhere in the south are collected and translated, and until plans are made of their buildings, and statistics collected about them, it is idle to speculate either about the time of the introduction of Jainism into the south, or its vicissitudes during its existence there. It is a task which, it is to be feared, few in that Presidency are capable of undertaking, and that fewer still are willing to devote the time and labour requisite for its successful accomplishment; but it is worthy of being attempted, for, if successfully carried out, it would add to our scant stores of knowledge one of the most interesting chapters still available for the religious and artistic history of the people of India.

Bettus.

The first peculiarity that strikes one as distinguishing the Jaina architecture of the south from that of the north, is the division of the southern temples into two classes, called Bastis and Bettus.[294] The former are temples in the usual acceptance of the word, as understood in the north, and, as there, always containing an image of one of the twenty-four Tirthankars, which is the object there worshipped. The latter are unknown in the north; and are courtyards open to the sky and containing images, not of a Tirthankar, but of a Gômati or Gômata Raja so called, though who he was, and why worshipped, no one seems exactly to know. He is not known to the Jains in the north. All the images on the rock at Gualior are of one or other of the Tirthankars, and even the Ulwar colossus, Nan Gûngi, can hardly be identified with these southern images. It looks almost as if some vague tradition of Gautama Buddha the prince, as distinguished from Mahavira the last of the Tirthankars, and who is said to have been his preceptor, had in late times penetrated to the south, and given rise to this peculiar form. Be this, however, as it may, the images of this king or Jaina saint are among the most remarkable works of native art in the south of India. Three of them are known, and have long been known to Europeans,[295] and it is doubtful if any more exist. They are too remarkable objects not to attract the attention of even the most indifferent Saxon. That at Sravana Belgula attracted the attention of the late Duke of Wellington when, as Sir A. Wellesley, he commanded a division at the siege of Seringapatam. He, like all those who followed him, was astonished at the amount of labour such a work must have entailed, and puzzled to know whether it was a part of the hill or had been moved to the spot where it now stands. The former is the more probable theory. The hill called Indra Giri is one mass of granite about 400 ft. in height, and probably had a mass or Tor standing on its summit—either a part of the subjacent mass or lying on it. This the Jains undertook to fashion into a statue 70 ft. 3 in. in height, and have achieved it with marvellous success. The task of carving a rock standing in its place the Hindu mind never would have shrunk from, had it even been twice the size; but to move such a mass up the steep smooth side of the hill seems a labour beyond their power, even with all their skill in concentrating masses of men on a single point. Whether, however, the rock was found in situ or was moved, nothing grander or more imposing exists anywhere out of Egypt, and even there no known statue surpasses it in height, though, it must be confessed, they do excel it in the perfection of art they exhibit.

The image at Kârkala, which is next—its size being 41 ft. 5 in. in height, and weighs about 80 tons[296]—was moved certainly to the place where it now stands, and its date luckily is engraved upon it, A.D. 1432, and it is so like that at Belgula, that there can hardly be much difference between their ages.

The third at Yannûr is smaller, about 35 ft. high apparently,[297] but from the style of art in which it is executed it is probably the oldest of the three (Woodcut No. 148).

All these three figures belong to the Digambara sect of Jains, being entirely naked; and all possess the peculiarity of having twigs of the Bo-tree of Sakya Muni—the Ficus religiosa—twisted round their arms and legs in a manner found nowhere else, and in having serpents at their feet. In the Jaina cave at Badami a similar figure has two serpents wound round its arms and legs precisely as these twigs are here, and the Bo-tree is relegated to the background.[298] This figure, though probably not so old as the cave in which it is found—say A.D. 600—is certainly much older than the three great monoliths, and with other indications renders it probable that the greater prominence of the serpent or the tree is no unfair indication of the relative age of any two statues. In that at Yannûr, the serpents are three-headed and very prominent beside the statue, on steles alongside the legs. At Kârkala they are less so,[299] and at Belgula they are relegated to the base, while the tree with its leaves is there thickly spread over the whole figure.

Bastis.

The principal group of the Bastis of the Jains, at present known at least, above the Ghâts, is that at Sravana Belgula. There are there two hills—the Indragiri, on whose summit the colossal image just described stands, and dominates the plain. On a shoulder of the other, called Chandragiri, stand the Bastis, fifteen in number. As might be expected from their situation, they are all of the Dravidian style of architecture, and are consequently built in gradually receding stories, each of which is ornamented with small simulated cells, as was explained above, p. 134, and will be more fully described presently. No instance occurs among them of the curvilinear sikra or spire, which is universal with the northern Jains, except in the instance of Ellora above alluded to.

Unfortunately, no one has yet thought it worth while to make a plan of any of these temples, nor even to describe them in detail, so that it is difficult to feel sure of anything regarding them. The following woodcut (No. 149) conveys, however, an idea of the general external appearance, which is more ornamental than that of the generality of northern Jaina temples. The outer wall of those in the north is almost always quite plain. The southern ones are as generally ornamented with pilasters and crowned with a row of ornamental cells. Inside is a court probably square and surrounded by cloisters, at the back of which rises the vimana over the cell, which contains the principal image of the Tirthankar. It always is surmounted by a small dome, as is universally the case with every vimana in Dravidian architecture, instead of with the mysterious amalaka ornament of northern sikras.

It may be a vain speculation, but it seems impossible to look at this woodcut, and not be struck with its resemblance to the temples of southern Babylonia (Woodcuts Nos. 47 and 48 of vol. i.). The same division into stories, with their cells; the backward position of the temple itself; the panelled or pilastered basement, are all points of resemblance it seems difficult to regard as purely accidental. The distance of time would seem to bar such an idea, but the combinations of men with bulls and lions, and the many similarities between the Pantheons of Babylonia and India, render the fact of the architecture of the one country influencing that of the other, far from being impossible, though by some it may be considered improbable. I have long tried to shake off the idea as an untenable hypothesis, but every time I return to the study of the subject, its likelihood recurs with increasing strength. Its verification, however, or refutation must depend on our possessing greater knowledge of the subject than we do at present.

When we descend the Ghâts into Canara, or the Tulava country, we come on a totally different state of matters. Jainism is the religion of the country, and all or nearly all the temples belong to this sect, but their architecture is neither the Dravidian style of the south, nor that of northern India, and indeed is not known to exist anywhere else in India Proper, but recurs with all its peculiarities in Nepal.

The annexed two views (Woodcuts Nos. 150-51) of one of the largest of these temples, found at a place called Moodbidri,[300] in Canara, will give a fair idea of the general aspect of these temples externally. They are much plainer than Hindu temples usually are. The pillars look like logs of wood with the angles partially chamfered off, so as to make them octagons, and the sloping roofs of the verandahs are so evidently wooden that the style itself cannot be far removed from a wooden original. In many places, indeed, below the Ghâts the temples are still wholly constructed in wood without any admixture of stone, and almost all the features of the Moodbidri temples may be found in wood at the present day. The blinds between the pillars, which are there executed in stone, are found in wood in every city in India, and with very little variation are used by Europeans in Calcutta to a greater extent, perhaps, than they were ever used by the natives.

The feature, however, which presents the greatest resemblance to the northern styles, is the reverse slope of the eaves above the verandah. I am not aware of its existence anywhere else south of Nepal, and it is so peculiar that it is much more likely to have been copied than re-invented.

The interiors of the Canarese temples are in marked contrast with the plainness of the exteriors. Nothing can exceed the richness or the variety with which they are carved. No two pillars seem alike, and many are ornamented to an extent that may seem almost fantastic. This again seems an indication of their recent descent from a wooden

original. Long habit of using stone would have sobered their forms, and they are now of great thickness—it may even be said massiveness—and this is just such an excess of strength as a people accustomed to wooden architecture would employ when first called upon to replace in stone supports which in wood would have appeared necessary to carry a heavy stone roof (Woodcut No. 152, p. 273).

Their plans, as far as can be made out from photographs, are those usual in Jaina temples—spacious, well-lighted porches, leading to a dark cell in which the image of one of the Tirthankars is placed, naked of course, as all the southern Jains seem to have belonged to the Digambara sect.

Their age has not yet been determined with certainty, as no inscriptions from them have yet been published or translated, but, in so far as information can be gathered from the various sources available, three or four hundred years seems to be about the limit of their age. Some may go back as far as 1300, but it looks as if the kingdom of the Zamorin was at the height of its prosperity about the time it was first visited by the Portuguese, and that the finest temples may belong to that age.

Besides the greater temples, there are several varieties of smaller ones which seem peculiar to the style—such, for instance, as the five-pillared shrine at Gurusankerry (Woodcut No. 153). Four-pillared pavilions are not uncommon in front of Hindu temples in the south. There is a very famous one, for instance, on the opposite shore of India at Mahavellipore, but not one, that I know of, with five pillars, or with access to the upper chambers. There are three of these upper chambers in this instance—the two lower now closed, but apparently originally open; but to what use they were devoted, or what purpose they were intended to subserve, is by no means clear. At the base of the temple are a number of stones bearing images of serpents; seven or eight are now there, and the serpents themselves are some with one, others three, five, or seven heads. It may be that this is a serpent temple, and that the living form of this strange divinity, when alive, inhabited the upper storey. But it may also be, that the stones were brought there in modern times, so that till some one on the spot will take the trouble to ascertain the facts of the case, it is not safe to speculate regarding them.

A third feature, even more characteristic of the style, is found in the tombs of the priests, a large number of which are found in the neighbourhood of Moodbidri. Three of these are illustrated in the annexed Woodcut (No. 154). They vary much in size and magnificence, some being from three to five or seven storeys in height, but they are not, like the storeys of Dravidian temples, ornamented with simulated cells and finishing with domical roofs. The division of each storey is a sloping roof, like those of the pagodas at Katmandhu, and in China or Thibet. In India they are quite anomalous. In the first place, no tombs of priests are known to exist anywhere else, and their forms, too, are quite unlike any other building now known to be standing in any other part of India.

Though not the grandest, certainly the most elegant and graceful objects to be found in Canara belonging to the Jaina style of architecture are the stambhas, which are found attached to almost every temple. These are not, however, peculiar to the place or style. They are used sometimes by the Hindus, but then generally as deepdans, or lamp-bearing pillars, and in that case have some arrangement for exhibiting light from their summit. With the Jains this does not appear ever to have been the case. Their pillars are the lineal descendants of those of the Buddhists, which bore either emblems or statues—generally the former—or figures of animals; with the Jains or Vaishnavas they as generally bore statues. Be this as it may, they seem nowhere to have been so frequent or so elaborately adorned as among the Jains in the south, and especially in Canara. The example here given of one at Gurusankerry is a fair average specimen of its class (Woodcut No. 155). The sub-base is square and spreading; the base itself square, changing into an octagon, and thence into a polygonal figure approaching a circle; and above a wide-spreading capital of most elaborate design. To many this may at first sight appear top-heavy, but it is not so in reality. If you erect a pillar at all, it ought to have something to carry. Those we erect are copied from pillars meant to support architraves, and are absurd solecisms when merely supporting statues; we have, however, got accustomed to them, and our eye is offended if anything better proportioned to the work to be done is proposed; but, looking at the breadth of the base and the strength of the shaft, anything less than here exhibited would be found disproportionately small.

On the lower or square part of these stambhas, as well as on the pillars inside the temples at Moodbidri (Woodcut No. 152) and elsewhere in Canara, we find that curious interlaced basket-pattern, which is so familiar to us from Irish manuscripts or the ornaments on Irish crosses. As pointed out in a former volume (ii. p. 475), it is equally common in Armenia, and can be traced up the valley of the Danube into central Europe; but how it got to the west coast of India we do not know, nor have we, so far as I know, any indication on which we can rely for its introduction. There was at all times for the last fifteen centuries a large body of Christians established on this coast who were in connection with Persia and Syria, and are so now. It would be strange, indeed, if it were from them the Jains obtained this device. But stranger things have happened than even this in the history of architecture, and few things can be more interesting when the means exist of tracing any connection that may be detected between them.

If any one wished to select one feature of Indian architecture which would illustrate its rise and progress, as well as its perfection and weakness, there are probably no objects more suited for this purpose than these stambhas, or free-standing pillars. They are found of all ages, from the simple and monolithic lâts which Asoka set up to bear inscriptions or emblems, some 250 years B.C. down to the seventeenth or perhaps even eighteenth century of our era. During these 2000 years they were erected first by the Buddhists, then by the Jains, and occasionally by the other sects in all parts of India; and notwithstanding their inherent frailty, some fifty—it may be a hundred—are known to be still standing. After the first and most simple, erected by Asoka, it may be safely asserted that no two are alike though all bear strongly the impress of the age in which they were erected, and all are thoroughly original and Indian in design.

It may be owing to the styloclastic propensities of the Moslems that these pillars are not found so frequently where they have held sway, as in the remoter parts of India; but, whether from this cause or not, they seem to be more frequent in Canara and among the southern Jains than in any other part of India. In the north we depend mainly on the rock-cut examples for their forms, but they are so usual there that it seems hardly doubtful they were relatively as frequent in connection with structural examples, though these have generally disappeared.

It has been suggested that there may be some connection between these stambhas and the obelisks of the Egyptians. The time that elapsed, however, between the erection of the monoliths in the valley of the Nile and those in India seems to render this doubtful, though they were certainly erected for similar purposes and occupied the same position relatively to the temples. When, however, we look at the vast difference between their designs, it is evident, even assuming a connection, that vast ages must have elapsed before the plain straight-lined forms of the obelisks could have been changed into the complicated and airy forms of the Jaina stambhas. The two are the Alpha and Omega of architectural design—the older, simple and severe, beyond any other examples of purely ornamental objects; the latter, more varied and more highly ornamented than almost any others of their class that can be named.

We are hardly yet in a position to push these speculations to their legitimate issue, and must wait for further information before any satisfactory conclusion can be derived from them; but meanwhile it may be pointed out how curiously characteristic of Indian art it is that this little remote province of Tulava, or Canara, should have a style of its own, differing essentially from that found in any other part of the Indian continent, but still having affinities with outlying and distant countries, with which one would hardly suspect any connection but for the indications derived from their architecture.

I cannot offer even a plausible conjecture how or at what time a connection existed between Nepal and Thibet and Canara; but I cannot doubt that such was the case, and that some one with better opportunities will hereafter explain what now seems so mysterious. It is less difficult to conjecture how early and frequent intercourse may have existed between the Persian Gulf and the western shores of India, and how the relations between these two countries may have been so intimate as to account for the amount of Assyrian, or, as we now call them Armenian, forms we now find in the Jaina architecture of southern India, especially in that below the Ghâts. It will require, however, that the Indian branch of the subject should be much more fully and more scientifically investigated than has hitherto been the case before it is worth while to do more than indicate how rich a field lies open to reward the industry of any future explorer.

BOOK III.

ARCHITECTURE IN THE HIMALAYAS.

CHAPTER I.

KASHMIR.

Apart, however, from this adventitious advantage, the temples of Kashmir do form a group well worthy of attention. When one or two spurious examples are got rid of, they form a complete and homogeneous group, extending through about six centuries (A.D. 600 to A.D. 1200), singularly uniform in their development and very local, being unlike any other style known in India. They have besides this a certain classical element, which can hardly be mistaken, and is sufficient in itself to attract the attention of Europeans who are interested in detecting their own familiar forms in this remote valley in the Himalayas.

The earliest of the modern investigators of the subject were Messrs. Moorcroft and Trebeck, who visited the valley in 1819-25.[301] They were both acute and intelligent observers, but, having no special knowledge of the subject, their observations on the architecture of the valley do not add much to our knowledge of its history.

They were followed by G. T. Vigne in 1833, who being an artist drew the buildings with wonderful correctness, so as to bring out the peculiarities of the style, and also to approximate their history with very tolerable exactness.[302] About the same time Baron Hügel gave his impression on the subject to the public, but in a manner much less critical than his predecessors.[303]

In 1848, Captain (now General) A. Cunningham published in the September number of the ‘Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society’ an essay on what he called the Aryan order of architecture, but which was wholly devoted to that of Kashmir. It was illustrated by fifteen folding plates, containing plans, elevations, and views, and in fact all that was required for settling the history of the style, and, but for one or two unfortunate mistakes, would have left little to be done by his successors in this field of inquiry.

In 1866, the Rev. W. C. Cowie, Chaplain on duty in Kashmir, published in the same journal an essay on the same subject, as a supplement to General Cunningham’s paper, describing several temples he had not visited, and adding considerably to our knowledge of those he had described. This paper was also extensively illustrated.

In consequence of all this wealth of literature, very little remained to be done, when in 1868 Lieutenant Cole, R.E., obtained an appointment as superintendent of the Archæological Survey of India, and proceeded to Kashmir with a staff quite sufficient to settle all the remaining outstanding questions.[304] Unfortunately, however, Lieutenant Cole had no previous knowledge of Indian antiquities in general, and had not qualified himself by any special study for the investigation he was deputed to undertake. All, therefore, he could do was to adopt blindly General Cunningham’s dates, and in this there would have been no great harm, but, when he came across a temple which had escaped his predecessor’s attention, he arbitrarily interpolated it, with a date of his own, into the General’s series. As all these dates are given as if perfectly ascertained without any of the reasoning on which they are based, they would, if accepted, lead to the most erroneous conclusions. Putting these, however, aside, Lieutenant Cole’s plans and architectural details are a valuable contribution to our knowledge of the subject, and with his photographs and those now available by others, enable those who have not had an opportunity of visiting the valley to form an opinion of their own, and with all these lights there seems little difficulty in ascertaining all the really important facts connected with this style.

The first and most misleading mistake that has been made with reference to Kashmiri architecture, was the assumption by General Cunningham that the enclosure to Zein-ul-ab-ud-dín’s tomb in Srinagar originally belonged to an ancient Kashmiri temple. Lieutenant Cole boldly prints on his plates, “probable date A.D. 400 to 500,” a mistake as nearly as may be of 1000 years, as it is hardly doubtful that it was erected for or by the prince whose name it bears, and who in A.D. 1410 succeeded his father Sikandar, who bore the ill-omened nickname of Butshikan, the idol-breaker. As will be seen from the woodcut (No. 156), it consists of a series of small pointed arches in rectangular frames, such as are very frequently found in Mahomedan art, and the peculiarities of the gateways and other parts are just such as are found in all contemporary Moslem art in India. All the mosques and tombs for instance at Ahmedabad, A.D. 1396-1572, are made up of details borrowed from the architecture of the Jains, and the bases of their minarets and their internal pillars can only be distinguished from those of the heathen by their position, and by the substitution of foliage for human figures in the niches or places where the Hindus would have introduced images of their gods.