James Fergusson

CONTENTS.

History—Temples at Bhuvaneswar, Kanaruc, Puri, Jajepur, and Cuttack.

The two provinces of India, where the Indo-Aryan style can be studied with the greatest advantage, are Dharwar on the west, and Orissa on the east coast. The former has the advantage of being mixed up with the Dravidian style, so as to admit of synonyms and contrasts that are singularly interesting, both from an ethnological and historical point of view. In Orissa, on the contrary, the style is perfectly pure, being unmixed with any other, and thus forms one of the most compact and homogeneous architectural groups in India, and as such of more than usual interest, and it is consequently in this province that the style can be studied to the greatest advantage.

One of the most marked and striking peculiarities of Orissan architecture is the marked and almost absolute contrast it presents to the style of the Dravidian at the southern end of the peninsula. The curved outline of the towers or vimanas has already been remarked upon, but, besides this, no Orissan towers present the smallest trace of any storeyed or even step-like arrangement, which is so universal further south, and the crowning member is never a dome, nor a reminiscence of one. Even more remarkable than this, is the fact that the Orissan style is almost absolutely astylar. In some of the most modern examples, as for instance in the porches added to the temples at Bhuvaneswar and Puri in the 12th and 14th centuries, we do find pillars, but it is probably correct to state that, among the 500 or 600[414] original shrines at Bhuvaneswar, not one pillar is to be found. This is the more remarkable, because, within sight of that capital, the caves in the Udayagiri (ante, p. 140) are adorned with pillars to such an extent as to show that their forms must have been usual and well known in the province before any of the temples were constructed. When we recollect that no great temple in the south was considered complete without its hall of 1000 columns, and many besides this had hundreds dispersed about the place, and used for every conceivable purpose, the contrast is more striking, and shows what a complete barrier the Chalukyas, whoever they were, interposed between the two races on this side of India, though not on the other. As a rule, every Orissan temple consists of two apartments, similar in plan, as shown in the diagram (Woodcut No. 124). The inner one is generally a cube, surmounted by a tower, here called Bara Deul, or Dewul, corresponding with the vimana of the south, and in it the image or images of the gods are enshrined; in front of this is a porch, called Jagamohan, equally a cube or approaching it, and surmounted by a pyramidal roof of varying pitch. The peculiarities are illustrated in the diagram (Woodcut No. 124) just referred to, which purports to be an elevation of the celebrated Black Pagoda at Kanaruc. It is only, however, an eye-sketch, and cannot be depended upon for minute detail and correctness, but it is sufficient to explain the meaning of the text. Sometimes one or two more porches were added in front of this one, and called NÂt and Bhog mandirs (mantapas), but these, in almost every instance, are afterthoughts, and not parts of the original design. Be this as it may, in every instance in Orissa the tower with its porch forms the temple. If enclosed in a wall, they are always to be seen outside. There are gateways, it is true, but they are always subordinate, and there are none of those accretions of enclosures and gopuras that form so marked a characteristic of the southern style. There generally are other shrines within the enclosures of the great temples, but they are always kept subordinate, and the temple itself towers over everything to even a greater extent than that at Tanjore (Woodcut No. 191), giving a unity and purpose to the whole design, so frequently wanting in the south.

Other contrasts will come out as we proceed, but, in the meanwhile, few examples bring out more clearly the vast importance of ethnography as applied to architecture. That two people, inhabiting practically the same country, and worshipping the same gods under the guidance of the same Brahmanical priesthood, should have adopted and adhered to two such dissimilar styles for their sacred buildings, shows as clearly as anything can well do how much race has to do with these matters, and how little we can understand the causes of such contrasts, unless we take affinities or differences of race into consideration.

History.

Thanks to the industry of Stirling and others, the main outlines of the history of Orissa have been ascertained with sufficient accuracy to enable us to describe its architecture without the fear of making any important chronological blunders. It is true that the dates of only two of its temples have been ascertained with tolerable certainty. The great one at Bhuvaneswar is said to have been erected in or about A.D. 637, and that at Puri in A.D. 1174, nearly the first and the last of the series. My impression is that the series may be carried back to about the year 500, but in the other direction it can hardly be extended beyond the year 1200, but within these limits it seems possible to arrange the sequence of all the temples in the province without much difficulty, and to ascertain their dates with at least a fair approximate certainty.[415]

With the exception of the great temple of JuganÂt at Puri, all the buildings described in this chapter were erected under the great Kesari dynasty, or “Lion line,” as Hunter calls them. Few of the particulars of their history have been recorded, but we know at least the date of their accession, A.D. 473, and that in A.D. 1131 they were succeeded by a new dynasty, called Ganga Vansa, the third of whom was the builder of the great Puri Temple.

As mentioned in a previous part of this work, Orissa was principally Buddhist, at least from the time of Asoka, B.C. 250, till the Gupta era, A.D. 319, when all India was distracted by wars connected with the tooth relic, which was said to have been preserved at Puri—then in consequence called Danta Pura—till that time. If the invaders came by sea, as it is said they did, they probably were either Mughs from Arrakan, or the Burmese of Pegu, and if their object was to obtain possession of the tooth, they as probably were Buddhists; but as they have left no buildings that have yet been identified as theirs, it is impossible now to determine this. Whoever they were, they were driven out, after 146 years’ possession, and were succeeded in or about A.D. 473 by Yayati, the first of the Kesari line.[416] The annals of the race unfortunately do not tell us who the Kesaris were, or whence they came. From the third king before the Yavana invasion being called Bato Kesari, it seems probable it may have been only a revival of the old dynasty; and from the circumstances narrated regarding the expulsion of these strangers, it looks as if it were due more to a local rising than to extraneous aid. If they came from the interior, it was from the north-west, where a similar style seems to have prevailed. Their story, as told in their own annals, states that the first, or one of the first kings of the race, imported, about the year A.D. 500, a colony—10,000 Brahmans—from Ayodhya, and they being all bigoted Saivites, introduced that religion into the province, and rooted it so firmly there, that it was the faith of the land so long as the Kesaris ruled.[417] If we read 100 as the number of the Brahmans, and A.D. 600 as the date of their advent, we shall probably be nearer the truth; but be this as it may, these Brahmans were settled at Jajepur, not at Bhuvaneswar, and soon came into conflict with a class of “Old Brahmans,” who had been established in the province long before their arrival. Mr. Hunter supposes them to have been Buddhists—Brahmans converted to the Buddhist faith—which seems probable, but if this were so, they would certainly have become Vaishnavas on the decline of that religion, and such, I fancy, was certainly the case in this instance.

The architecture of the province seems to me to confirm this view of the case, for, unless I am very much mistaken, the oldest temple in the city of Bhuvaneswar is that called Parasurameswara (Woodcut No. 230), which from its name, as well as the subjects portrayed on its walls, I would take to be certainly Vaishnava. It may, however, belong to the preceding dynasty. Its style is certainly different from the early Kesari temples, and more like what we find in Dharwar and at other places outside the province. If, indeed, it were not found in a city which there seems every reason for thinking was founded by the Lion kings, I would not hesitate to give it a date of A.D. 450, instead of A.D. 500. It is not large, being only 20 ft. square[418]

at its base; but its sculptures are cut with a delicacy seldom surpassed, and there is an appropriateness about the ornaments greater than is seen in most of the temples.

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230. Temple of Parasurameswara. (From a Photograph.)

The temple itself is apparently 38 ft. in height, and from the summit to the base it is covered with sculptures of the most elaborate character, but still without detracting from the simplicity and vigour of its outline.

If I am correct in assigning so early a date to the tower of this temple, it is evident that the porch must be a subsequent addition: in the first place, because it fits badly to the tower, but more because the necessities of its construction require pillars internally, and they do not occur in Orissan architecture till a long subsequent date. It may, however, be that if this is really the oldest temple of its class in Orissa, its design may be copied from a foreign example, and borrowed, with all its peculiarities, from a style practised elsewhere. Be that as it may, it is interesting as showing the mode by which light was sometimes introduced into the porches of these temples between the ends of the beams of the stone roof. As the sloping roofing-stones project considerably beyond the openings, a subdued light is introduced, without either the direct rays of the sun, or the rain being able to penetrate.

[Image unavailable.]

231. Temple of Mukteswara. (From a Photograph.)

The temple of Mukteswara (Woodcut No. 231) is very similar in general design to that of Parasurameswara, but even richer and more varied in detail, and its porch partakes more of the regular Orissan type. It has no pillars internally, and the roof externally exhibits at least the germ of what we find in the porches of the great temple at Bhuvaneswar and the Black Pagoda. Its dimensions are somewhat less than those of the last temple described, but in its class it may be considered the gem of Orissan architecture.

The style of these temples differs so much from that of the next group, of which the great temple is the typical example, that I was at one time inclined to believe they may have belonged to different religions—this one to the Vaishnava, that to the Saiva. I have no means, however, of verifying this conjecture, and it is not always easy to do so even on the spot, for in India there is nothing so common as temples originally destined for the worship of one deity being afterwards devoted to that of another. Whatever may be the case in this instance, it is well to bear this in mind, as, whenever we have a complete history of Orissan architecture, these distinctions may lead to most important historical deductions.

Besides these, there are several other temples which, from the style of their architecture, I would feel inclined to place as earlier than the great temple. One is known as Sari DËul, near the great temple, and another, a very complete and beautiful example, is called Moitre (query Mittra) Serai, which is almost a duplicate, on a small scale, of the great temple, except that it has no repetition of itself on itself. As above pointed out, almost all the ornaments on the faÇades of Buddhist temples are repetitions of themselves; but the Hindus do not seem to have adopted this system so early, and the extent to which it is carried is generally a fair test of the age of Hindu temples. In the great Pagoda there are eight copies of itself on each face, and in the Raj Rani the system is carried so far as almost to obliterate the original form of the temple.

Great Temple, Bhuvaneswar.

The great temple at Bhuvaneswar is one of the landmarks in the style. It seems almost certainly to have been built by Lelat Indra Kesari, who reigned from A.D. 617 to A.D. 657, and, taking it all in all, it is perhaps the finest example of a purely Hindu temple in India.

Though not a building of the largest class, the dimensions of this temple in plan are, so far as I can make out, far from contemptible. The whole length is nearly 300 ft., with a breadth varying from 60 ft. to 75 ft. The original temple, however, like almost all those in Orissa, consisted only of a vimana, or Bara Dewul, and a porch or Jagamohan, shaded darker in the plan (Woodcut No. 232), and they extend only to 160 ft. The Nat and Bhog-mandirs, shaded lighter, were added in the beginning of the 12th century. Though several temples have all these four apartments, so far as I can make out, none were originally erected with them. The true Orissan temple is like that represented in Woodcut No. 124, a building with two apartments only, and these astylar, or practically so: the pillars were only introduced in the comparatively modern additions.

The outline of this temple in elevation is not, at first sight,

232. Plan of Great Temple at Bhuvaneswar. (Compiled partly from Plan in Babu Rajendra’s work, but corrected from Photographs.) (Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.)

pleasing to the European eye; but when once the eye is accustomed to it, it has a singularly solemn and pleasing aspect. It is a solid, and would be a plain square tower, but for the slight curve at the top, which takes off the hardness of the outline and introduces pleasingly the circular crowning object (Woodcut No. 233). As compared with that at Tanjore (Woodcut No. 191), it certainly is by far the finer design of the two. In plan the southern example is the larger, being 82 ft. square. This one is only 66 ft.[419] from angle to angle, though it is 75 ft. across the central projection. Their height is nearly the same, both of them being over 180 ft., but the upper part of the northern tower is so much more solid, that the cubic contents of the two are probably not very different. Besides, however, greater beauty in form, the northern example excels the other immeasurably in the fact that it is wholly in stone from the base to the apex, and—what, unfortunately, no woodcut can show—every inch of the surface is covered with carving in the most elaborate manner. It is not only the divisions of the courses, the roll-mouldings on the angles, or the breaks on the face of the tower: these are sufficient to relieve its flatness, and with any other people they would be deemed sufficient; but every individual stone in the tower has a pattern carved upon it, not so as to break its outline, but sufficient to relieve any idea of monotony. It is, perhaps, not an exaggeration to say that if it would take a sum—say a lakh of rupees or pounds—to erect such a building as this, it would take

three lakhs to carve it as this one is carved. Whether such an outlay is judicious or not, is another question. Most people would be of opinion that a building four times as large would produce a greater and more imposing architectural effect; but this is not the way a Hindu ever looked at the matter. Infinite labour bestowed on every detail was the mode in which he thought he could render his temple most worthy of the deity; and, whether he was right or wrong, the effect of the whole is certainly marvellously beautiful. It is not, however, in those parts of the building shown in the woodcut that the greatest amount of carving or design was bestowed, but in the perpendicular parts seen from the courtyard (Woodcut No. 234). There the sculpture is of a very high order and great beauty of design. This, however, ought not to surprise when we recollect that at Amravati, on the banks of the Kistnah, not far from the southern boundary of this kingdom, there stood a temple more delicate and elaborate in its carvings than any other building in India,[420] and that this temple had been finished probably not more than a century before the Kesari dynasty was established in Orissa; and though the history of art in India is written in decay, there was not much time for decline, and the dynasty was new and vigorous when this temple was erected.

Attached to the Jagamohan of this temple is a Nat-mandir, or dancing-hall, whose date is, fortunately, perfectly well known, and enables us to measure the extent of this decay with almost absolute certainty. It was erected by the wife of Salini between the years 1099 and 1104.[421] It is elegant, of course, for art had not yet perished among the Hindus, but it differs from the style of the porch to which it is attached more than the leanest example of Tudor art differs from the vigour and grace of the buildings of the early Edwards. All that power of expression is gone which enabled the early architects to make small things look gigantic from the exuberance of labour bestowed upon them. A glance at the Nat-mandir is sufficient for the mastery of its details. A week’s study of the Jagamohan would every hour reveal new beauties.

The last woodcut may convey some idea of the extent to which the older parts were elaborated: but even the photograph hardly enables any one not familiar with the style to realise how exquisite the combination of solidity of mass with exuberance of ornament really is.

During the four centuries and a half which elapsed between the erection of these two porches, Bhuvaneswar was adorned with some hundreds of temples, some dozen of which have been photographed, but hardly in sufficient detail to enable the student to classify them according to their dates. On the spot[422] it probably would be easy for any one trained to this class of study, and it would be a great gain if it were done. The group nearest in richness and interest is that at KhajurÂho, mentioned above (p. 245); but that group belongs to an age just subsequent[423] to that of the Bhuvaneswar group, and only enables us to see that some of the most elaborate of the Cuttack temples may extend to the year 1000 or thereabouts. It is to this date that I would ascribe the erection of the Raj Rani temple. The names of those of which I have photographs, with their approximate data, are given in the list at the end of this chapter; but I refrain from burdening the text with their unpronounceable names, as I despair, by any reasonable number of woodcuts, of illustrating their marvellous details in anything like a satisfactory manner.

The Raj Rani temple, as will be seen from the woodcut (No. 235), is small; but the plan is arranged so as to give great variety and play of light and shade, and as the details are of the most exquisite beauty, it is one of the gems of Orissan art. The following woodcut (No. 236), without attempting to illustrate the art, is quoted as characteristic of the emblems of the Kesari line. Below the pillar are three kneeling elephants, over which domineer three lions, the emblems of the race. Above this a Nagni, or female Naga, with her seven-headed snake-hood, adorns the upper part of the pillar. They are to be found, generally in great numbers, in almost all the temples of the province. Over the doorway are the Nava

Graha, or nine planets, which are almost more universal, both in temples dedicated to Vishnu and in those belonging to the worship of Siva. Indeed, in so far as any external signs are concerned, there does not seem to be any means by which the temples of the two religions can be distinguished from one another. Throughout the province, from the time we first meet it, about A.D. 500, till it dies out about A.D. 1200, the style seems to be singularly uniform in its features, and it requires considerable familiarity with it to detect its gradual progress towards decay. Notwithstanding this, it is easy to perceive that there are two styles of architecture in Orissa, which ran side by side with one another during the whole course. The first is represented by the temples of Parasurameswara and Mukteswara (Woodcuts No. 230, 231); the second by the great temple (Woodcut No. 233). They are not antagonistic, but sister styles, and seem certainly to have had at least partially different origins. We can find affinities with that of the Mukteswara group in Dharwar and most parts of northern India: but I know of nothing exactly like the great temple anywhere else. It seems to be quite indigenous, and if not the most beautiful, it is the simplest and most majestic of the Indo-Aryan styles. It may look like riding a hobby to death, but I cannot help suspecting a wooden origin for it—the courses look so much more like carved logs of wood laid one upon another than courses of masonry, and the mode and extent to which they are carved certainly savours of the same material. There is a mosque built of Deodar pine in Kashmir, to be referred to hereafter, which certainly seems to favour this idea; but till we find some older temples than any yet discovered in Orissa this must remain in doubt. Meanwhile it may be well to point out that about one-half of the older temples in Orissa follow the type of the great temple, and one-half that of Mukteswara; but the two get confounded together in the 8th and 9th centuries, and are mixed together into what may almost be called a new style in the Raj Rani and temples of the 10th and 11th centuries.

Kanaruc.

With, perhaps, the single exception of the temple of JuganÂt at Puri, there is no temple in India better known and about which more has been written than the so-called Black Pagoda at Kanaruc; nor is there any one whose date and dedication is better known, if the literature on the subject could be depended upon. Stirling does not hesitate in asserting that the present edifice, “as is well known, was built by the Raja Langora Narsingh Deo, in A.D. 1241, under the superintendence of his minister Shibai Sautra;”[424] and every one who has since written on the subject adopts this date without hesitation,[425] and the native records seem to confirm it. Complete as this evidence, at first sight, appears, I have no hesitation in putting it aside, for the simple reason that it seems impossible—after the erection of so degraded a specimen of the art as the temple of Puri (A.D. 1174)—the style ever could have reverted to anything so beautiful as this. In general design and detail it is so similar to the Jagamohan of the great temple at Bhuvaneswar that at first sight I should be inclined to place it in the same century; but the details of the tower exhibit a progress towards modern forms which is unmistakeable,[426] and render a difference of date of two or possibly even three centuries more probable. Yet the only written authority I know of for such a date is that given by Abul Fazl. After describing the temple, and ascribing it to Raja Narsingh Deo, in A.D. 1241, with an amount of detail and degree of circumstantiality which has deceived every one, he quietly adds that it is said “to be a work of 730 years’ antiquity.”[427] In other words, it was erected in A.D. 850 or A.D. 873, according to the date we assume for the composition of the Ayeen Akbery. If there were a king of that name among the Rois fainÉants of the Kesari line, this would suffice; but no such name is found in the lists.[428] This, however, is not final; for in an inscription on the Brahmaneswar temple the queen, who built it, mentions the names of her husband, Udyalaka, and six of his ancestors; but neither he nor any of them are to be found in the lists except the first, Janmejaya, and it is doubtful whether even he was a Kesari king or the hero of the ‘Mahabharata.’[429] In all this uncertainty we have really nothing to guide us but the architecture, and its testimony is so distinct that it does not appear to me doubtful that this temple really belongs to the latter half of the 9th century.

Another point of interest connected with this temple is, that all authors, apparently following Abul Fazl, agree that it was like the temple of Marttand, in Kashmir (ante, p. 287), dedicated to the sun. I have never myself seen a Sun temple in India, and being entirely ignorant of the ritual of the sect, I would not wish to appear to dogmatise on the subject; but I have already expressed my doubts as to the dedication of Marttand, and I may be allowed to repeat them here. The traces of Sun worship in Bengal are so slight that they have escaped me, as they have done the keen scrutiny of the late H. H. Wilson.[430]

In the Vedas it appears that Vishnu is called the Sun, or it may be the sun bears the name of Vishnu;[431] and this may account, perhaps, for the way in which the name has come to be applied to this temple, which differs in no other respect from the other temples of Vishnu found in Orissa. The architectural forms are identical; they are adorned with the same symbols. The Nava Graha, or nine planets, adorn the lintel of this as of all the temples of the Kesari line. The seven-headed serpent-forms are found on every temple of the race, from the great one at Bhuvaneswar to this one, and it is only distinguishable from those of Siva by the obscenities that disfigure a part of its sculptures. This is, unfortunately only too common a characteristic of Vaishnava temples all over India, but is hardly, if ever, found in Saiva temples, and never was, so far as I know, a characteristic of the worship of the Sun god.

Architecturally, the great beauty of this temple arises from the form of the design of the roof of the Jagamohan, or porch—the only part now remaining. Both in dimensions and detail, it is extremely like that of the great temple at Bhuvaneswar, but it is here divided into three storeys instead of two, which is an immense improvement, and it rises at a more agreeable angle. The first and second storeys consist of six cornices each, the third of five only, as shown in the diagram Woodcut No. 124. The two lower ones are carved with infinite beauty and variety on all their twelve faces, and the antefixÆ at the angles and breaks are used with an elegance and judgment a true Yavana could hardly have surpassed. There is, so far as I know, no roof in India where the same play of light and shade is obtained with an equal amount of richness and constructive propriety as in this instance, nor one that sits so gracefully on the base that supports it.

Internally, the chamber is singularly plain, but presents some constructive peculiarities worthy of attention. On the floor it is about 40 ft. square, and the walls rise plain to about the same height. Here it begins to bracket inwards, till it contracts to about 20 ft., where it was ceiled with a flat stone roof, supported by wrought-iron beams—Stirling says nine, nearly 1 ft. square by 12 ft. to 18 ft. long.[432] My measurements made the section less—8 in. to 9 in., but the length greater, 23 ft.; and Babu Rajendra points out that one, 21 ft. long, has a square section of 8 in. at the end, but a depth of 11 in. in the centre,[433] showing a knowledge of the properties and strength of the material that is remarkable in a people who are now so utterly incapable of forging such masses. The iron pillar at Delhi (Woodcut No. 281) is even a more remarkable example than this, and no satisfactory explanation has yet been given as to the mode in which it was manufactured. Its object, however, is plain, while the employment of these beams here is a mystery. They were not wanted for strength, as the building is still firm after they have fallen, and so expensive a false ceiling was not wanted architecturally to roof so plain a chamber. It seems to be only another instance of that profusion of labour which the Hindus loved to lavish on the temples of their gods.

Puri.

When from the capital we turn to Puri, we find a state of affairs more altered than might be expected from the short space of time that had elapsed between the building of the Black Pagoda and the celebrated one now found there. It is true the dynasty had changed. In 1131, the Kesari Vansa, with their Saiva worship, had been superseded by the Ganga Vansa, who were apparently as devoted followers of Vishnu; and they set to work at once to signalise their triumph by erecting the temple to JuganÂt, which has since acquired such a world-wide celebrity.

It is not, of course, to be supposed that the kings of the Ganga line were the first to introduce the worship of Vishnu to Orissa. The whole traditions, as recorded by Stirling, contradict such an assumption, and the first temple erected on this spot to the deity is said to have been built by Yayati, the founder of the Kesari line.[434] He it was who recovered the sacred image of JuganÂt from the place where it had been buried 150 years before, on the invasion of the Yavanas, and a “new temple was erected by him on the site of the old one, which was found to be much dilapidated and overwhelmed with sand.”[435] This, of course, was before the arrival of the Ayodhya Brahmans alluded to above, who, though they may have retained possession of the capital during the continuance of the dynasty, did not apparently interfere with the rival worship in the provinces.

It would indeed be contrary to all experience if, in a country where Buddhism once existed, those who were followers of that faith had not degenerated first into Jainism and then into Vishnuism. At Udayagiri we have absolute proof in the caves of the first transition, and that it continued there till the time when the Mahrattas erected the little temple on the southern peak. In like manner, there seems little doubt that the tooth relic was preserved at Puri till the invasion of the Yavanas, apparently, as before mentioned, to obtain possession of it. According to the Buddhist version, it was buried in the jungle, but dug up again shortly afterwards, and conveyed to Ceylon.[436] According to the Brahmanical account, it was the image of JuganÂt, and not the tooth, that was hidden and recovered on the departure of the Yavanas, and then was enshrined at JuganÂt in a new temple on the sands. The tradition of a bone of Krishna being contained in the image[437] is evidently only a Brahmanical form of Buddhist relic worship, and, as has been frequently suggested, the three images of JuganÂt, his brother Balbhadra, and the sister Subhadhra, are only the Buddhist trinity—Buddha, Dharma, Sanga—disguised to suit the altered condition of belief among the common people. The pilgrimage, the RÂt Jutra, the suspension of caste prejudices, everything in fact at Puri, is redolent of Buddhism, but of Buddhism so degraded as hardly to be recognisable by those who know that faith only in its older and purer form.

The degradation of the faith, however, is hardly so remarkable as that of the style. Even Stirling, who was no captious critic, remarks that it seems unaccountable, in an age when the architects obviously possessed some taste and skill, and were in most cases particularly lavish in the use of sculptural ornament, so little pains should have been taken with the decoration and finishing of this sacred and stupendous edifice.[438] It is not, however, only in the detail, but the outline, the proportions, and every arrangement of the temple, show that the art in this province at least had received a fatal downward impetus from which it never recovered.

As will be seen from the annexed plan[439] (Woodcut No. 237), this temple has a double enclosure, a thing otherwise unknown in the north. Externally it measures 670 ft. by 640 ft., and is surrounded by a wall 20 ft. to 30 ft. high, with four gates. The inner enclosure measures 420 ft. by 315 ft., and is enclosed by a double wall with four openings. Within this last stands the Bara Dewul, A, measuring 80 ft. across the centre, or 5 ft. more than the great temple at Bhuvaneswar; with its porch or Jagamohan, B, it measures 155 ft. east and west, while the great tower rises to a height of 192 ft.[440] Beyond this two other porches were afterwards added, the Nat-mandir, C, and Bhog-mandir, D, making the whole length of the temple about 300 ft., or as nearly as may be the same as that at Bhuvaneswar. Besides this there are, as in all great Hindu temples, numberless smaller shrines within the two enclosures, but, as in all instances in the north, they are kept subordinate to the principal one, which here towers supreme over all.

Except in its double enclosure, and a certain irregularity of plan, this temple does not differ materially in arrangement from the great ones at Bhuvaneswar and elsewhere; but besides the absence of detail already remarked upon, the outline of its vimana is totally devoid either of that solemn solidity of the earlier examples, or the grace that characterised those subsequently erected; and when we add to this that whitewash and paint have done their worst to add vulgarity to forms already sufficiently ungraceful, it will easily be understood that this, the most famous, is also the most disappointing of northern Hindu temples.[441] As may be seen from the preceding illustration (Woodcut No. 238), the parts are so nearly the same as those found in all the older temples at Bhuvaneswar, that the difference could hardly be expressed in words; even the woodcut, however, is sufficient to show how changed they are in effect, but the building itself should be seen fully to appreciate the degradation that has taken place.

Jajepur and Cuttack.

Jajepur, on the Byturni, was one of the old capitals of the province, and even now contains temples which, from the squareness of their forms, may be old, but, if so, they have been so completely disguised by a thick coating of plaster, that their carvings are entirely obliterated, and there is nothing by which their age can be determined. The place was long occupied by the Mahomedans, and the presence of a handsome mosque may account for the disappearance of some at least of the Hindu remains. There is one pillar, however, still standing, which deserves to be illustrated as one of the most pleasing examples of its class in India (Woodcut No. 239). Its proportions are beautiful, and its details in excellent taste; but the mouldings of the base, which are those on which the Hindus were accustomed to lavish the utmost care, have unfortunately been destroyed. Originally it is said to have supported a figure of Garuda—the Vahana of Vishnu—and a figure is pointed out as the identical one. It may be so, and if it is the case, the pillar is of the 12th or 13th century. This also seems to be the age of some remarkable pieces of sculpture which were discovered some years ago on the brink of the river, where they had apparently been hidden from Mahomedan bigotry. They are in quite a different style from anything at Bhuvaneswar or Kanaruc, and probably more modern than anything at those places.

Cuttack became the capital of the country in A.D. 989-1006, when a certain Markut Kesari built a stone revÊtement to protect the site from encroachment of the river.[442] It too, however, has suffered, first from the intolerant bigotry of the Moslem, and afterwards from the stolid indifference[443] of the British rulers, so that very little remains; but for this the nine-storeyed palace of Mukund Deo, the contemporary of Akbar, might still remain to us in such a state at least as to be intelligible. We hear so much, however, of these nine-storeyed palaces and viharas, that it may be worth while quoting Abul Fazl’s description of this one, in order to enable us to understand some of the allusions and descriptions we afterwards may meet with:—“In Cuttack,” he says, “there is a fine palace, built by Rajah Mukund Deo, consisting of nine storeys. The first storey is for elephants, camels, and horses; the second for artillery and military stores, where also are quarters for the guards and other attendants; the third is occupied by porters and watchmen; the fourth is appropriated for the several artificers; the kitchens make the fifth range; the sixth contains the Rajah’s public apartments; the seventh is for the transaction of private business; the eighth is where the women reside; and the ninth is the Rajah’s sleeping apartment. To the south,” he adds, “of this palace is a very ancient Hindu temple.”[444]

As Orissa at the period when this was written was practically a part of Akbar’s kingdom, there seems little doubt that this description was furnished by some one who knew the place. There are seven-storeyed palaces at Jeypur and Bijapur still standing, which were erected about this date, and one of five storeys in Akbar’s own palace at Futtehpore Sikri, but none, so far as I know, of nine storeys, though I see no reason for doubting the correctness of the description of the one just quoted.

Although it thus consequently happens that we have no more means of ascertaining what the civil edifices of the Indo-Aryans of Orissa were like, than we have of those of the contemporary Dravidians, there is a group of engineering objects which throw some light on the arts of the period. As has been frequently stated above, the Hindus hate an arch, and never will use it except under compulsion. The Mahomedans taught them to get over their prejudices and employ the arch in their civil buildings in later times, but to the present day they avoid it in their temples in so far as it is possible to do so. In Orissa, however, in the 13th century, they built numerous bridges in various parts of the province, but never employed a true arch in any of them. The Atarah Nullah bridge at Puri, built by Kebir Narsingh Deo, about 1250, has been drawn and described by Stirling, and is the finest in the province of those still in use. Between the abutments it is 275 ft. long, and with a roadway 35 ft. wide. That shown in the above woodcut (No. 240) is probably older, and certainly more picturesque, though constructed on the same identical plan. It may be unscientific, but many of these old bridges are standing and in use, while many of those we have constructed out of the ruins of the temples and palaces have been swept away as if a curse were upon them.

Conclusion.

The above may be considered as a somewhat meagre account of one of the most complete and interesting styles of Indian architecture. It would, however, be impossible to do it justice without an amount of illustration incompatible with the scope of this work, and with details drawn on a larger scale than its pages admit of. It is to be hoped that Babu Rajendra’s work may, to some extent, at least, supply this deficiency. The first volume can only, however, be considered as introductory, being wholly occupied with preliminary matters, and avoiding all dates or descriptions of particular buildings. The second, when it appears, may remedy this defect, and it is to be hoped will do so, as a good monograph of the Orissan style would convey a more correct idea of what Indian art really is than a similar account of any other style we are acquainted with in India. From the erection of the temple of Parasurameswara, A.D. 500, to that of JuganÂt at Puri, A.D. 1174, the style steadily progresses without any interruption or admixture of foreign elements, while the examples are so numerous that one might be found for every fifty years of the period—probably for every twenty—and we might thus have a chronometric scale of Hindu art during these seven centuries that would be invaluable for application to other places or styles. It is also in Orissa, if anywhere that we may hope to find the incunabula that will explain much that is now mysterious in the forms of the temples and the origin of many parts of their ornamentation. An examination, for instance, of a hundred or so of the ruined and half-ruined temples of the province would enable any competent person to say at once how far the theory above enunciated (Woodcut No. 124)—to account for the curved form of the towers—was or was not in accordance with the facts of the case, and, if opposed to them, what the true theory of the curved form really was. In like manner, it seems hardly doubtful that a careful examination of a great number of examples would reveal the origin of the amalaka crowning ornament. I feel absolutely convinced, as stated above, that it did not grow out of the berry of the Phyllanthus emblica, and am very doubtful if it had a vegetable origin at all. But no one yet has suggested any other theory which will bear examination, and it is only from the earliest temples themselves that any satisfactory answer can be expected.

It is not only, however, that these and many other technical questions will be answered when any competent person undertakes a thorough examination of the ruins, but they will afford a picture of the civilization and of the arts and religion of an Indian community during seven centuries of isolation from external influences, such as can hardly be obtained from any other source. So far as we at present know, it is a singularly pleasing picture, and one that will well repay any pains that may be taken to present it to the English public in a complete and intelligible form.

Tentative List of Dates and Dimensions of the Principal Orissan Temples.