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.

BOOK IX.

CHINA.

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCTORY.

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.

CHAPTER II.

PAGODAS.

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