that any part of the building is really as old as this. On the whole, however, I am inclined to believe that this inner temple is really the one referred to in the above extract. The temple of Parvati, C, on the north of the tank, was added afterwards, most probably in the 14th or 15th century, and to that age the great gopuras and the second enclosure also belong. The hall of 1000 columns, E, was almost certainly erected between 1595 and 1685, at which time, we learn from the Mackenzie MSS., the kings of the locality made many donations to the fane.[383] It was then, also, in all probability, the outer enclosure was commenced; but it never was carried out, being in most places only a few feet above the foundation.

The oldest thing now existing here is a little shrine in the inmost enclosure (opposite A in the plan), with a little porch of two pillars, about 6 ft. high, but resting on a stylobate, ornamented with dancing figures, more graceful and more elegantly executed than any other of their class, so far as I know, in southern India. At the sides are wheels and horses, the whole being intended to represent a car, as is frequently the case in these temples. Whitewash and modern alterations have sadly disfigured this gem, but enough remains to show how exquisite, and consequently how ancient, it was. It was dedicated to Verma, the god of dancing, in allusion, probably, to the circumstance above mentioned as leading to the foundation of the temple.

In front of it is a shrine of very unusual architecture, with a tall copper roof, which, I have no doubt, represents or is the golden sabhá above referred to, and in front of this is a gopura and pillared porch, making up what seems to have been the temple of Vira Deva. The outer enclosure, with the buildings it contains, are, it appears, those of Ari Vari.

The temple of Parvati, C, is principally remarkable for its porch, which is of singular elegance. The following woodcut (No. 197) gives some idea of its present appearance, and the section (Woodcut No. 198) explains its construction. The outer aisles are 6 ft. in width, the next 8 ft., but the architect reserved all his power for the central aisle, which measures 21 ft. 6 in. in width, making the whole 50 ft. or thereabouts. In order to roof this without employing stones of such dimensions as would crush the supports, recourse was had to vaulting, or rather bracketing, shafts, and these brackets were again tied together by transverse purlins, all in stone, and the system was continued till the width was reduced to a dimension that could easily be spanned. As the whole is enclosed in a court surrounded by galleries two storeys in height, the effect of the whole is singularly pleasing.

Opposite to this, across the tank, is the hall of 1000 columns, similar in many respects to that at Seringham, above described, but probably slightly more modern. Here the pillars are arranged twenty-four in front by forty-one in depth, making 984; but in order to get a central space, four in the porch, then twenty-eight, then two, and again twenty-four, have been omitted, altogether fifty-eight; but, on the other hand, those of the external portico must be added, which nearly balances the loss, and makes up the 1000.[384] It must be

confessed this forest of granite pillars, each of a single stone, and all more or less carved and ornamented, does produce a certain grandeur of effect, but the want of design in the arrangement, and of subordination of parts, detract painfully from the effect that might have been produced. Leaving out the pillars in the centre is the one redeeming feature, and that could easily have been effected without the brick vaults, formed of radiating arches, which are employed here—another certain proof of the modern age of the building. These vaults are certainly integral, and as certainly could not have been employed till after the Mahomedans had settled in the south, and taught the Hindus how to use them.

Although this temple has been aggregated at different ages, and grown by accident rather than design like those at Tiruvalur and Seringham just described, it avoids the great defect of these temples, for though like them it has no tall central object to give dignity to the whole from the outside, internally the centre of its great court is occupied by a tank, round which the various objects are grouped without at all interfering with one another. The temple itself is one important object, to the eastward of it; the Parvati temple another, on the north, and forms a pleasing pendant to the 1000-columned choultrie on the south. Alongside the Parvati another temple was commenced (Woodcut No. 199), with a portico of square pillars, four in front, and all most elaborately ornamented, but in such a manner as not to interfere with their outline or solidity.

From its unfinished and now ruined state, it is not easy to say to whom this temple was dedicated—most probably Soubramanya—nor to feel sure of its age. From its position, however, and the character of its ornamentation, there seems little doubt that it belongs to the end of the 17th and first half of the 18th century. From its style, I would be inclined to ascribe it to the earlier date, but in that case it is difficult to understand its not being finished. When they had money to erect the great hall, and to commence a new enclosure, they might certainly have spared enough to complete this solitary shrine.

Ramisseram.

If it were proposed to select one temple which should exhibit all the beauties of the Dravidian style in their greatest perfection, and at the same time exemplify all its characteristic defects of design, the choice would almost inevitably fall on that at Ramisseram, in the island of Paumben (Woodcut No. 200). In no other temple has the same amount of patient industry been exhibited as here, and in none, unfortunately, has that labour been so thrown away for want of a design appropriate for its display. It is not that this temple has grown by successive increments like those last described; it was begun and finished on a previously settled plan, as regularly and as undeviatingly carried out as that at Tanjore, but on a principle so diametrically opposed to it, that while the temple at Tanjore produces an effect greater than is due to its mass or detail, this one, with double its dimensions and ten times its elaboration, produces no effect externally, and internally can only be seen in detail, so that the parts hardly in any instance aid one another in producing the effect aimed at.

The only part of the temple which is of a different age from the rest is a small vimana, of very elegant proportions, that stands in the garden, on the right hand of the visitor as he enters from the west[385] (D). It has, however, been so long exposed—like the temple on the shore at Mahavellipore—to the action of the sea-air, that its details are so corroded they cannot now be made out, and its age cannot consequently be ascertained from them. It is safe, however, to assert that it is more modern than any of the rock-cut examples above quoted; possibly it may be of the 11th or 12th century. Its dimensions may be guessed as 50 ft. in height, by 30 ft. or 40 ft. in plan, so that it hardly forms a feature in so large a temple. From the four bulls that occupy the platform under the dome, it is evident it was originally dedicated to Siva, as the whole temple now apparently is, though the scene of Rama’s most celebrated exploit, and bearing his name.

Externally the temple is enclosed by a wall 20 ft. in height, and possessing four gopuras, one on each face, which have this peculiarity, that they alone, of all those I know in India, are built wholly of stone from the base to the summit. The western one (D) alone, however, is finished, and owing apparently to the accident of its being in stone, it is devoid of figure-sculpture—some half-dozen plaster casts that now adorn it having been added quite recently. Those on the north and south (A and C) are hardly higher than the wall in which they stand, and are consequently called the ruined gateways. Such a thing is, however, so far as I know, unknown in southern India. Partly from their form, and more from the solidity of their construction, nothing but an earthquake could well damage them, and their age is not such as would superinduce ruin from decay of material. These, in fact, have never been raised higher, and their progress was probably stopped in the beginning of the last century, when Mahomedan, Mahratta, and other foreign invaders checked the prosperity of the land, and destroyed the wealth of the priesthood. The eastern façade has two entrances and two gopuras. The smaller, not shown in the plan, is finished. The larger one (B in the plan) never was carried higher than we now see it. Had it been finished,[386] it would have been one of the largest of its class, and being wholly in stone, and consequently without its outline being broken by sculpture, it would have reproduced more nearly the effect of an Egyptian propylon than any other example of its class in India.

The glory, however, of this temple resides in its corridors. These, as will be seen by the plan, extend to nearly 4000 feet in length. The breadth varies from 20 ft. to 30 ft. of free floor space, and their height is apparently about 30 ft. from the floor to the centre of the roof. Each pillar or pier is compound, and richer and more elaborate in design than those of the Parvati porch at Chillambaram (Woodcut No. 197), and are certainly more modern in date.

The general appearance of these corridors may be gathered from the annexed woodcut (No. 201), but no engraving, even on a much more extended scale, can convey the impression produced by such a display of labour when extended to an uninterrupted length of 700 ft. None of our cathedrals are more than 500 ft., and even the nave of St. Peter’s is only 600 ft. from the door to the apse. Here the side corridors are 700 ft. long, and open into transverse galleries as rich in detail as themselves. These, with the varied devices and modes of lighting, produce an effect that is not equalled certainly anywhere in India. The side corridors are generally free from figure-sculpture, and consequently, from much of the vulgarity of the age to which they belong, and, though narrower, produce a more pleasing effect. The central corridor leading from the sanctuary is adorned on one side by portraits of the rajas of Ramnad in the 17th century, and opposite them, of their secretaries. Even they, however, would be tolerable, were it not that within the last few years they have been painted with a vulgarity that is inconceivable on the part of the descendants of those who built this fane. Not only they, however, but the whole of the architecture has first been dosed with repeated coats of whitewash, so as to take off all the sharpness of detail, and then painted with blue, green, red, and yellow washes, so as to disfigure and destroy its effect to an extent that must be seen to be believed. Nothing can more painfully prove the degradation to which our system has reduced the population than this profanity. No upper class, and consequently no refinement, now remains, and the priesthood, instead of being high bred and intellectual Brahmans, must be sunk into a state of debasement from which nothing can now probably redeem them.

Assuming, however, for the nonce, that this painting never had been perpetrated, still the art displayed here would be very inferior to that of such a temple as, for instance, Hullabîd, in the Mysore, to be described further on. The perimeter, however, of that temple is only 700 ft.; here we have corridors extending to 4000 ft., carved on both sides, and in the hardest granite. It is the immensity of the labour here displayed that impresses us, much more than its quality, and that, combined with a certain picturesqueness and mystery, does produce an effect which is not surpassed by any other temple in India, and by very few elsewhere.

The age of this temple is hardly doubtful. From first to last its style—excepting the old vimana—is so uniform and unaltered that its erection could hardly have lasted during a hundred years, and if this is so, it must have been during the 17th century, when the Ramnad rajas were at the height of their independence and prosperity, and when their ally or master, Tirumulla Nayak, was erecting buildings in the same identical style at Mádura. It may have been commenced fifty years earlier (1550), and the erection of its gopuras may have extended into the 18th century, but these seem the possible limits of deviation. Being so recent, any one on the spot could easily ascertain the facts. They could indeed be determined very nearly from the photographs, were it not for the whitewash and paint, which so disfigure the details as to make them almost unrecognisable.

Mádura.

If the native authorities consulted by the late Professor Wilson in compiling his Historical sketch of the Kingdom of Pándya could be relied upon, it would seem that the foundation of the dynasty ought to be placed some five or six centuries before the Christian Era.[387] Even, however, if this is disputed, the fact of the southern part of the Peninsula being described as the “Regio Pandionis” by classical authorities is sufficient to prove that a kingdom bearing that name did exist there in the early centuries of the Christian Era. Their first capitals, however, seem to have been Kurkhi, possibly the Kolkhi of the Periplus, near Ramnad, and Kalyana, near Cape Comorin. The story of Kula Sekhara founding Mádura, and the fabulous incidents with which the tale is adorned, is one of the favourite legends of the south, and is abundantly illustrated in sculptures of Tirumulla Nayak’s choultrie and in other buildings of the capital.

For our present purposes it is hardly worth while to attempt to investigate the succession of the dates of the seventy-three kings who are said to have succeeded one another before the accession of the Nayak or Naik dynasty, in 1532, inasmuch as no building is now known to exist in the kingdom that can claim, even on the most shadowy grounds, to have been erected by any of these kings. It may have been that, anterior to the rise of the great Chola dynasty, in the 10th and 11th century, that of Mádura may have had a long period of prosperity and power; but certain it is, that if they did build anything of importance, its existence cannot now be identified. After that, for a while they seem to have been subjected to the Bellala dynasty of the Mysore, and the same Mahomedan invasion that destroyed that power in 1310 spread its baneful influence as far as Ramnad, and for two centuries their raids and oppressions kept the whole of southern India in a state of anarchy and confusion. Their power for evil was first checked by the rise of the great Hindu state of Vijayanagar, in the Tongabhadra, in the 14th century, and by the establishment, under its protection, of the Nayak dynasty by Viswanath Nayak, in the beginning of the 16th. After lasting 210 years, the last sovereign of the race—a queen—was first aided, and then betrayed, by Chanda Sahib the Nawaub of the Carnatic, who plays so important a part in our wars with the French in these parts.

It may be—indeed, probably is the case—that there are temples in the provinces that were erected before the rise of the Nayak dynasty, but certain it is that all those in the capital, with the great temple at Seringham, described above, were erected during the two centuries of their supremacy, and of those in the capital nine-tenths at least were erected during the long and prosperous reign of the tenth king of this dynasty, Tirumulla Nayak, or as he is more popularly known, Trimul Naik, who reigned from 1621 to 1657.[388]

Of his buildings, the most important, for our purposes[389] at least, is

the celebrated choultrie which he built for the reception of the presiding deity of the place, who consented to leave his dark cell in the temple and pay the king an annual visit of ten days’ duration, on condition of his building a hall worthy of his dignity, and where he could receive in a suitable manner the homage of the king and his subjects. As will be seen from the plan (Woodcut No. 202) the hall is 333 ft. long by 105 ft. in width, measured on the stylobate, and consists of four ranges of columns, all of which are different, and all most elaborately sculptured. An elevation of one is given (Woodcut No. 203), but is not so rich as those of the centre, which have life-sized figures attached to them, and are even more elaborate in their details. In this instance it will be observed that the detached bracketing shaft at Chillambaram has become attached to the square central pier, and instead of the light elegance that characterised that example, has become a solid pier, five or six feet in depth—richer certainly, but far from being either so elegant or so appropriate as the earlier example.

The view of the interior (Woodcut No. 204) gives some, but only a faint, idea of the effect. The sides are now closed with screens, and it is difficult to procure good photographs; but in effect, as in detail, it is identical with the corridors at Ramisseram, where the light is abundant.

As the date of this hall is perfectly well known—it took twenty-two years to erect it, 1623 to 1645—it becomes a fixed point in our chronology of the style. We can, for instance, assert with perfect certainty that the porch to Parvati’s shrine at Chillambaram (Woodcut No. 197) is certainly anterior to this, probably by a couple of centuries, and, with equal certainty that the corridors at Ramisseram are contemporary. From the history of the period we learn that the rajas of Ramnad were at times independent, at others at war with the Nayaks; but in Tirumulla Nayak’s time either his allies or dependants; and the style and design of the two buildings are so absolutely identical that they must belong to the same age. It is, indeed, most probable that the king of Mádura may have assisted in the erection of the temple. If he had indeed been allowed any share in making the original design, the temple would probably have been a nobler building than it is; for, though the details are the same, his three-aisled hall leading to the sanctuary would have been a far grander feature architecturally than the singled-aisled corridors that lead nowhere. The expense of one of the single-aisled corridors at Ramisseram, 700 ft. long, would have been about the same as the triple-aisled choultrie at Mádura, which is half their length. If, consequently, the choultrie cost a million sterling—as is confidently asserted—the temple must have cost between three and four millions; and such an estimate hardly seems excessive when we consider the amount of labour expended on it, and that the material in both is the hardest granite.

The façade of this hall, like that of almost all the great halls in the south of India, is adorned either with Yalis—monsters of the lion type trampling on an elephant—or, even more generally, by a group consisting of a warrior sitting on a rearing horse, whose feet are supported on the shields of foot soldiers, sometimes slaying men, sometimes tigers. These groups are found literally in hundreds in southern India, and, as works exhibiting difficulties overcome by patient labour, they are unrivalled, so far as I know, by anything found elsewhere. As works of art, they are the most barbarous, it may be said the most

vulgar, to be found in India, and do more to shake one’s faith in the civilization of the people who produced them than anything they did in any other department of art. Where these monstrosities are not introduced, the pillars of entrances are only enriched a little more than those of the interior, when the ornamentation is in better taste, and generally quite sufficiently rich for its purpose.

Immediately in front of his choultrie, Tirumulla Nayak commenced a gopura, which, had he lived to complete it, would probably have been the finest edifice of its class in southern India. It measures 174 ft. from north to south, and 107[390] ft. in depth. The entrance through it is 21 ft. 9 in. wide; and if it be true that its gateposts are 60 ft. (Tripe says 57 ft.) in height, that would have been the height of the opening.[391] It will thus be seen that it was designed on even a larger scale than that at Seringham, described above, and it certainly far surpasses that celebrated edifice in the beauty of its details. Its doorposts alone, whether 57 ft. or 60 ft. in height, are single blocks of granite, carved with the most exquisite scroll patterns of elaborate foliage, and all the other carvings are equally beautiful. Being unfinished, and consequently never consecrated, it has escaped whitewash, and alone, of all the buildings of Mádura, its beauties can still be admired in their original perfection.

The great temple at Mádura is a larger and far more important building than the choultrie; but, somehow or other, it has not attracted the attention of travellers to the same extent that the latter has. No one has ever attempted to make a plan of it, or to describe it in such detail as would enable others to understand its peculiarities. It possesses, however, all the characteristics of a first-class Dravidian temple, and, as its date is perfectly well known, it forms a landmark of the utmost value in enabling us to fix the relative date of other temples.

The sanctuary is said to have been built by Viswanath, the first king of the Nayak dynasty, A.D. 1520, which may possibly be the case; but the temple itself certainly owes all its magnificence to Tirumulla Nayak, A.D. 1622-1657, or to his elder brother, Muttu Virappa, who preceded him, and who built a mantapa, said to be the oldest thing now existing here. The Kalyana mantapa is said to have been built A.D. 1707, and the Tatta Suddhi in 1770. These, however, are insignificant parts compared with those which certainly owe their origin to Tirumulla Nayak.

The temple itself is a nearly regular rectangle, two of its sides measuring 720 ft. and 729 ft., the other two 834 ft. and 852 ft. It possessed four gopuras of the first class, and five smaller ones; a very beautiful tank, surrounded by arcades; and a hall of 1000 columns, whose sculptures surpass those of any other hall of its class I am acquainted with. There is a small shrine, dedicated to the goddess Minakshi, the tutelary deity of the place, which occupies the space of fifteen columns, so the real number is only 985; but it is not their number but their marvellous elaboration that makes it the wonder of the place, and renders it, in some respects, more remarkable than the choultrie about which so much has been said and written. I do not feel sure that this hall alone is not a greater work than the choultrie; taken in conjunction with the other buildings of the temple, it certainly forms a far more imposing group.

As mentioned above, the great Vaishnava temple at Seringham owes all its magnificence to buildings erected during the reign of the Nayak dynasty, whose second capital was Trichinopoly, and where they often resided. Within a mile, however, of that much-lauded temple is another, dedicated to Siva, under the title of Jumbúkeswara, which, though not so large as that dedicated to Sri Rangam, far surpasses it in beauty as an architectural object. The first gateway of the outer enclosure is not large, but it leads direct to the centre of a hall containing some 400 pillars. On the right these open on a tank fed by a perpetual spring, which is one of the wonders of the place.[392] The corresponding space on the left was intended to be occupied by the 600 columns requisite to make up the 1000, but this never was completed. Between the two gopuras of the second enclosure is a very beautiful portico of cruciform shape, leading to the door of the sanctuary, which, however, makes no show externally, and access to its interior is not vouchsafed to the profane.[393] The age of this temple is the same as that of its great rival, except that, being all of one design, it probably was begun and completed at once, and from the simplicity of its parts and details may be earlier than the great buildings of Tirumulla Nayak. If we assume A.D. 1600, with a margin of ten or fifteen years either way, we shall probably not err much in its date.

One of the great charms of this temple, when I visited it, was its purity. Neither whitewash nor red nor yellow paint had then sullied it, and the time-stain on the warm-coloured granite was all that relieved its monotony; but it sufficed, and it was a relief to contemplate it thus after some of the vulgarities I had seen. Now all this is altered. Like the pagodas at Ramisseram, and more so those at Mádura, barbarous vulgarity has done its worst, and the traveller is only too fully justified in the contempt with which he speaks of these works of a great people which have fallen into the hands of such unworthy successors.

Tinnevelly.

Though neither among the largest nor the most splendid temples of southern India, that at Tinnevelly will serve to give a good general idea of the arrangement of these edifices, and has the advantage of having been built on one plan, and at one time, without subsequent alteration or change. Like the little cell in the Tiruvalur temple (Woodcut No. 193), it has the singularity of being a double temple, the great square being divided into equal portions, of which one is dedicated to the god Siva, the other to his consort Parvati. The preceding plan (Woodcut No. 205) represents one of the halves, which, though differing in arrangement from the other, is still so like it as to make the representation and description of one sufficient for both.

The general dimensions of the whole enclosure are 508 ft. by 756 ft., the larger dimension being divided into two equal portions of 378 ft. each. There are three gateways to each half, and one in the wall dividing the two; the principal gateway faces the entrance to the temple, and the lateral ones are opposite each other. An outer portico precedes the great gateway, leading internally to a very splendid porch, which, before reaching the gateway of the inner enclosure, branches off on the right to the intermediate gateway, and on the left to the great hall of 1000 columns—10 pillars in width by 100 in depth.

The inner enclosure is not concentric with the outer, and, as usual, has only one gateway. The temple itself consists of a cubical cell, surmounted by a vimana or spire, preceded by two porches, and surrounded by triple colonnades. In other parts of the enclosure are smaller temples, tanks of water, gardens, colonnades, &c., but neither so numerous nor so various as are generally found in Indian temples of this class.

The great 1000-pillared portico in the temple is one of the least poetic of its class in India. It consists of a regiment of pillars 10 deep and extending to 100 in length, without any break or any open space or arrangement. Such a forest of pillars does, no doubt, produce a certain effect; but half that number, if arranged as in some of the Chalukyan or Jaina temples, would produce a far nobler impression. The aim of the Dravidians seems to have been to force admiration by the mere exhibition of inordinate patient toil.

Combaconum.

If the traditions of the natives could be trusted, Combaconum—one of the old capitals of the Chola dynasty—is one of the places where we might hope to find something very ancient. There are fragments of older temples, indeed, to be found everywhere, but none in situ. All the older buildings seem to have been at some time ruined and rebuilt, probably on the same site, but with that total disregard to antiquity which is characteristic of the Hindus in all ages. One portico, in a temple dedicated to Sri Rama, is very like that leading

from the second to the third gopura in the temple of Jumbúkeswara, described above, but, if anything, it is slightly more modern. There is also one fine gopura in the town, represented in the last woodcut (No. 206). It is small, however, in comparison with those we have just been describing, being only 84 ft. across and about 130 ft. in height. Those of Seringham and Mádura have, or were intended to have, at least double these dimensions.

It is, however, a richly-ornamented example of its class, and the preceding woodcut conveys a fair impression of the effect of these buildings generally. It is not old enough to be quite of the best age, but it is still not so modern as to have lost all the character and expression of the earlier examples.

Conjeveram.

Conjeveram is another city where tradition would lead us to expect more of antiquity than in almost any city of the south. It is said to have been founded by Adondai, the illegitimate son of Kolotunga Chola, in the 11th or 12th century, and to have succeeded Combaconum as the capital of the Chola Mandalam. Even before this, however, it is supposed to have been inhabited by Buddhists,[394] and that they were succeeded by Jains. If this is so, all that can be said is, that neither of these religions have left any traces of their existence on the spot, and many passages in the Mackenzie MSS. would lead us to suppose that it was a jungle inhabited by savage Kurumbars when the Cholas took possession of it.

Be this as it may, the two towns, Great and Little Conjeveram, possess groups of temples as picturesque and nearly as vast as any to be found elsewhere. The great temple at the first-named place possesses some first-class gopuras, though no commanding vimana. It has, too, a hall of 1000 columns, several large and fine mantapas, large tanks with flights of stone steps, and all the requisites of a first-class Dravidian temple, but all thrown together as if by accident. No two gopuras are opposite one another, no two walls parallel, and there is hardly a right angle about the place. All this creates a picturesqueness of effect seldom surpassed in these temples, but deprives it of that dignity we might expect from such parts if properly arranged.

There may be some part I did not see[395] which may be older, but certainly none of the principal buildings are so old as Parvati’s shrine at Chillambaram, but all seem equally to be anterior to the great building epoch of the Nayak dynasty. They probably are the last efforts of the Cholas; but here, again, whitewash and red paint have done so much to obliterate the record, that it is not safe to dogmatise regarding the age of any buildings in either of the two Conjeverams.

Vellore and Peroor.

Although the temples at Vellore and at Peroor, near Coimbatore, can only rank among the second class as regards size, they possess porticos of extreme interest to architectural history, and are consequently worthy of more attention than has been bestowed upon them. That at Vellore, however, is unfortunately situated in the fort occupied by the British, and has consequently been utilised as a store. Walls have been built between its piers, and whitewash and fittings have reduced it to that condition which we think appropriate for the noblest works of art in India. Enough, however, still remains to enable us to see that it is one of the most elegant as well as one of the oldest porches or mantapas in the south. As will be seen from the woodcut (No. 207), the Yalis and rearing horsemen are clearly and sharply cut, and far from being so extravagant as they sometimes are. The great cornice too, with its double flexures and its little trellice-work of supports, is not only very elegant in form, but one of those marvels of patient industry, such as are to be found hardly anywhere else. There are many such cornices, however, in the south: one at Avadea Covill is deeper and more elaborate than even this one. The outer facing there is said to be only about an inch in thickness, and its network of supports is more elaborate and more delicate than those at Vellore, though it is difficult to understand how either was ever executed in so hard a material. The traditions of the place assign the erection of the Vellore porch to the year 1350, and though this is perhaps being too precise, it is not far from the truth. The bracket shafts (Woodcut No. 208) are similar but even more elegant than those in Parvati’s porch at Chillambaram; but they are—some of them at least—attached to the pier by very elegant open-work, such as is found in Pratapa Rudra’s temple at Worangul (Woodcut No. 217) or in the windows at Hullabîd. As both these examples are earlier than 1300, it might seem that this one was so also, but it is difficult to feel certain when comparing buildings so distant in locality, and belonging to different styles of art. On the whole, however, I am inclined to believe that between 1300 and 1400 will be found the true date of this porch.

The date of the porch at Peroor is ascertained within narrow limits by the figure of a Sepoy loading a musket being carved on the base of one of its pillars, and his costume and the shape of his arm are exactly those we find in contemporary pictures of the wars of Aurungzebe, or the early Mahrattas, in the beginning of the 18th century. As shown in Woodcut No. 209, the bracket shafts are there attached to the piers as in Tirumulla Nayak’s buildings, and though the general character of the architecture is the same, there is a coarseness in the details, and a marked inferiority in the figure-sculpture, that betrays the distance of date between these two examples.

Slight as the difference may appear to the unpractised eye, it is within the four centuries that include the dates of these two buildings (1350 to 1750) that practically the whole history of the Dravidian

temple architecture is included. There are rock-cut examples before the first date, and some structural buildings in Dharwar on a smaller scale, which are older, but it is safe to assert that nine-tenths, at least, or more, of those which are found south of the Tongabhadra, were erected between these dates.

Of course it is not meant to assert that, before the first of these dates, there were not structural temples in the south of India. So far from this being the case, it seems nearly certain that during the six or seven centuries that elapsed between the carving of the rocks at Mahavellipore and the erection of the Vellore pagoda, numerous buildings must have been erected in order that a style should be elaborated and so fixed that it should endure for five centuries afterwards, with so little change, and with only that degradation in detail, which is the fatal characteristic of art in India.

It seems impossible that the horsemen, the Yalis, and above all, the great cornice of double curvature, shown in the woodcut (No. 207), could have been brought to these fixed forms without long experience, and the difficulty is to understand how they could ever have been elaborated in stone at all, as they are so unlike lithic forms found anywhere else; yet they are not wooden, nor is there any trace in them of any of their details being derived from wooden architecture, as is so evidently the case with the Buddhist architecture of the north. The one suggestion that occurs to me is that they are derived from terra-cotta forms. Frequently, at the present day, figures of men on horseback larger than life, or of giants on foot, are seen near the village temples made of pottery, their hollow forms of burnt clay, and so burnt as to form a perfect terra-cotta substance. Most of the figures also on the gopuras are not in plaster as is generally said, but are also formed of clay burnt. The art has certainly been long practised in the south, and if we adopt the theory that it was used for many ornamental purposes before wood or stone, it will account for much that is otherwise unintelligible in the arts of the south.

Vijayanagar.

The dates just quoted will no doubt sound strange and prosaic to those who are accustomed to listen to the childish exaggerations of the Brahmans in speaking of the age of their temples. There is, however, luckily a test besides the evidence above quoted, which, if it could be perfectly applied, would settle the question at once.

When in the beginning of the 14th century the Mahomedans from Delhi first made their power seriously felt in the south, they struck down the kingdom of the Hoisala Bellalas in 1310, and destroyed their capital of Hullabîd; and in 1322 Worangul, which had been previously attacked, was finally destroyed, and it is said they then carried their victorious arms as far as Ramnad. The Mahomedans did not, however, at that time make any permanent settlement in the south, and the consequence was, that as soon as the Hindus were able to recover from the panic, Bukka and Harihara, princes it is said of the deposed house of Worangul, gathered around them the remnants of the destroyed states, and founded a new state in the town of Vijayanagar on the Tongabhadra. An earlier city it is said had been founded there in 1118, by a Vijaya Rayal, but only as a dependency of the Mysore Raj, and there is consequently no reason for supposing that any of the buildings in the city belong to that period, nor indeed till the new dynasty founded by Bukka had consolidated its power, which was certainly not before the beginning of the 15th century.

The city was finally destroyed by the Mahomedans in 1565, but during the two previous centuries it maintained a gallant struggle against the Bahmuny and Adil Shahi dynasties of Kalburgah and Bijapur, and was in fact the barrier that prevented the Moslems from taking possession of the whole country as far as Cape Comorin.

Its time of greatest prosperity was between the accession of Krishna Deva, 1508, and the death of Achutya Rayal, 1542, and it is to their reigns that the finest monuments in the city must be ascribed. There is, perhaps, no other city in all India in which ruins exist in such profusion or in such variety as in Vijayanagar, and as they are all certainly comprised within the century and a half, or at the utmost the two centuries, that preceded the destruction of the city, their analogies afford us dates that hardly admit of dispute.

Among those in the city the most remarkable is that dedicated to Vitoba, a local manifestation of Vishnu. It was erected by Achutya Rayal, A.D. 1529-1542, and never was finished; and if it were not that no successor ever cares in India to complete the works begun by his predecessor, we might fancy the works were interrupted by the siege. The principal part of the temple consists of a porch, represented in the annexed woodcut (No. 210). It is wholly in granite, and carved with a boldness and expression of power nowhere surpassed in the buildings of its class.[396] As will be observed, it has all the characteristic peculiarities of the Dravidian style: the bold cornice of double flexure, the detached shafts, the Yalis, the richly-carved stylobate, &c. But what interests us most here is that it forms an exact half-way house in style between such porches as those at Vellore and Chillambaram, and that of Tirumulla Nayak at Mádura. The bracket shafts are detached here, it is true, but they are mere ornaments, and have lost their meaning. The cornice is as bold as any, but has lost its characteristic supports, and other changes have been made, which would inevitably have led in a short time to the new style of the Nayak dynasty.