CONTENTS.

Introductory—Anuradhapura—Pollonarua.

Introductory.

If the materials existed for writing it in anything like a complete and satisfactory manner, there are few chapters in this history that ought to be so interesting or instructive as that which treats of the architecture of Ceylon. It alone, of all known countries, contains a complete series of Buddhist monuments extending from the time of Asoka to the present day, and in the ‘Mahawanso’ it alone possesses a history so detailed and so authentic, that the dates and purposes of the earlier buildings can be ascertained with very tolerable precision. Besides its own intrinsic interest, if it were possible to compare this unbroken series with its ascertained dates with the fragmentary groups on the continent of India, its parallelisms might throw much light on many questions that are obscure and uncertain, and the whole acquire a consistency that is now only too evidently wanting. Unfortunately, no one has yet visited the island who was possessed of the necessary qualifications to supply the information necessary for these purposes. Sir Emerson Tennent’s book, published in 1859, is still the best work on the subject. He had, however, no special qualifications for the task, beyond what were to be expected from any well-educated gentleman of talent, and his description of the buildings[227] is only meant for popular reading.

The two papers by Captain Chapman, in the third volume of the ‘Transactions,’ and thirteenth volume of the ‘Journal of the Asiatic Society,’ are still the best account of the ruins of Anuradhapura, and beyond these a few occasional notices are nearly all the printed matter we have to depend upon. Some seven or eight years ago, a series of photographs, by the late Mr. Lawton, threw some light on the matter, and quite recently a second series by Captain Hogg, R.E., have added something to our knowledge. But photographs without plans or dimensions or descriptions are most deceptive guides, and, as none of these have been supplied, they add little to our scientific knowledge of the subject. This is the more to be regretted, as quite recently some excavations have been undertaken at Anuradhapura which are calculated to throw considerable light on the structure of the great dagobas there, but regarding which no information, except what is afforded by these photographs, has reached this country.[228]

One of the most striking peculiarities of Ceylonese art, as compared with that of the continent, is the almost total absence of sculpture which it exhibits, and may be a peculiarity that may render it much less useful for comparison than might at first sight appear. The most obvious suggestion to meet this difficulty is to assume that the sculptures are buried in the accumulated ruins, in the cities where the great monuments are found, and will be discovered when excavations are made. It is to be feared, however, that this theory is hardly tenable; Ceylon has never been occupied by Mahomedans, or other hostile races, and there is no reason to suppose that at any time statues would be thrown down, or bas-reliefs destroyed; besides this, such excavations as have been made—and they are in the most likely places—have revealed nothing that would lead us to hope for better results elsewhere. Perhaps this ought not to surprise us, as nearly the same thing occurs in Burmah. In that country there is an unlimited amount of painting and carving, but no sculpture properly so called; and the same thing may have occurred in Ceylon. So far as we can now see, all the great topes were covered with chunam, which may have been painted to any extent, and all the viharas, as in Burmah, were in wood, and consequently unfitted for permanent sculpture. Besides this, such information as we have would lead us to suppose that painting was a more favoured art with the islanders than sculpture. When Fa Hian, for instance, visited the island in 412-413, he describes an accompaniment to the procession of the tooth relic as follows:—“The king next causes to be placed on both sides of the road representations of the 500 bodily forms which BÔdisatwa assumed during his successive births” (the jataka in fact). “These figures,” he adds, “are all beautifully painted in divers colours, and have a very life-like appearance.”[229] It was not that they could not sculpture in stone, for, as we shall presently see, some of their carvings are of great delicacy and cleverness of execution, but they seem to have preferred colour to the more permanent forms of representation. If this is so, it certainly is remarkable, when we think of the wealth of sculpture exhibited by such monuments as Bharhut, Sanchi, or Amravati. In so far as our present information goes, one single monastery in Gandhara, such as Jamalgiri, for instance, possessed more sculpture than is to be found in the whole island of Ceylon. The form, too, of such sculptures as have been discovered, is almost as curious as its rarity. Only one ancient figure of Buddha has yet been discovered at Anuradhapura. It may be of the 3rd or 4th century, and is placed unsymmetrically in a chapel in front of the Ruanwelli dagoba. Everywhere, however, there are statues of five or seven-headed serpents, or of men with serpent-hoods, which may be of any age, and at the foot of every important flight of steps there are two dwarpals or doorkeepers with this strange appendage,[230] and attached to each flight of steps of all the larger and older dagobas are figures of the great Naga himself. In fact, in so far as the testimony of the sculptures alone is concerned, we would be forced to conclude that all the great monuments of the capital were devoted to Serpent worship instead of that of Buddha, with one exception, however; that one is dedicated to the Bo-tree, which is supposed to be the tree originally sent by Asoka from Buddh Gaya more than 2000 years ago. We know, of course, that all this is not so, but it is a testimony to the early prevalence of Tree and Serpent worship in the island, as strange as it was unexpected.

Another peculiarity of the Ceylonese monuments is their situation in the two capitals of the island, for, it will have been observed, none of the remains of Buddhist architecture described in the previous chapters are found in the great capital cities of the Empire. They are detached monuments, spared by accident in some distant corner of the land, or rock-cut examples found in remote and secluded valleys. Buddhist Palibothra has entirely perished—so has Sravasti and Vaisali; and it is with difficulty we can identify Kapilawastu, Kusinara, and other famous cities, whose magnificent monasteries and stupas are described by the Chinese travellers in the fifth or seventh century of our era. In a great measure, this may be owing to their having been built of brick and wood; and, in that climate, vegetation is singularly destructive of the first, and insects and decay of the second. But much is also due to the country having been densely peopled ever since the expulsion of the Buddhists. It may also be remarked that the people inhabiting the plains of Bengal since the expulsion of the Buddhists, were either followers of the Brahmanical or Mahomedan religions—both inimical to them, or, at least, having no respect for their remains.

In Ceylon the case is different. Though the great capitals were early deserted, the people are now Buddhists, as they have been for the last 2000 years, and there, consequently, cities are still found adorned with monuments, which, though in ruins, convey a sufficient impression of what those of India must have been in the days of her glory.

Anuradhapura seems to have become the capital of Ceylon about 400 years before Christ, or about a century and a half after the death of Buddha, and the fabled introduction of his religion into the island. It was not, however, till after the lapse of another 150 years that it became a sacred city, and one of the principal capitals of Buddhism in the East, which it continued to be till about the year 769, when, owing to the repeated and destructive invasions of the Malabars, the capital was removed to Pollonarua. That city reached its period of greatest prosperity and extension, apparently in the reign of Prakrama Bahu, 1153-1186, and then sank during a long and disastrous period into decay. The seat of government was afterwards moved hither and thither, till the country fell into the hands of the Portuguese and Dutch, and finally succumbed to our power.

Anuradhapura.

The city of Anuradhapura is now totally deserted in the midst of an almost uninhabited jungle. Its public buildings must have suffered severely from the circumstances under which it perished, exposed for centuries to the attacks of foreign enemies. Besides this, the rank vegetation of Ceylon has been at work for 1000 years, stripping off all traces of plaster ornaments, and splitting the masonry in many places.

The very desolation, however, of its situation has preserved these ancient monuments from other and greater dangers. No bigoted Moslem has pulled them down to build mosques and monuments of his own faith; no indolent Hindu has allowed their materials to be used for private purposes or appropriated as private plunder; and no English magistrate has yet rendered them available for mending station roads and bridges. We may be sure, therefore, that these ruins deserve the greatest attention from the student of Buddhist architecture, and that a vast fund of information may be drawn from them when sufficiently explored and described.

The peculiar fortune of Anuradhapura is that it continued the capital of Ceylon for ten centuries; and, alone of all Buddhist cities, it retains something like a complete series of the remains of its greatness during that period. We possess, moreover, in the ‘Mahawanso’ and other Ceylonese scriptures, a tolerably authentic account of the building of all these monuments, and of the purposes to which they were dedicated. Among the vestiges of its former grandeur still to be found, are the ruins of seven dome-shaped topes or dagobas, of one monastery, of a building erected to contain the sacred Bo-tree, and several other ruins and antiquities. Among these is the great mound called the tomb of the usurper Elaala, but more probably it is a tope erected by the king Duttagaimuni to commemorate the victory over that intruder which he gained on this spot about the year B.C. 161. As it is now a mere mound, without any distinguishable outline, it will not be again alluded to.

Two of the topes are of the largest size known: one, the Abhayagiri, was erected B.C. 88; its dome is exactly hemispherical, and described with a radius of 180 ft., being thus more than 1100 ft. in circumference, and with the base and spire making up a total elevation of 244 ft., which is only 16 ft. less than the traditional height of 120 cubits assigned to it in the ‘Mahawanso.’[231] It was erected by a king Walagambahu, to commemorate his reconquest of his kingdom from a foreign usurper who had deposed him and occupied his throne for about sixteen years.

The second tope is the Jetawana, erected by a king Mahasena A.D. 275. In form and dimensions it is almost identical with the last described, though somewhat more perfect in outline, and a few feet higher, owing probably to its being more modern than its rival. These two were commemorative monuments, and not relic shrines.

Next to these, but far more important from its sacredness, is the Ruanwelli dagoba, erected by king Duttagaimuni, between the years 161 and 137 B.C., over a very imposing collection of relics, of which a full account is given in the 31st chapter of the ‘Mahawanso.’ Its dimensions are very similar to those of the two last described, but it has been so much defaced, partly by violence, and partly, it seems, from a failure of the foundations, that it is not easy to ascertain either its original shape or size. The same king erected another smaller tope, 260 ft. in diameter. It is now known as the Mirisiwellya. Like the last described it is very much ruined, and not particularly interesting either from its form or history.

Some excavations that have recently been undertaken have disclosed the fact that the Ruanwelli dagoba had at its base three offsets, or procession paths, rising like steps, one behind and above the other, but with no ornament now apparent, except a plain Buddhist rail of two bars on the outer edge of the two lower ones, and of an elephant cornice to the upper. It can hardly, however, be doubted that the inner faces were originally plastered, and painted with historical scenes. On each of the four fronts of this dagoba was an ornamental projection containing and partially concealing the flights of steps by which access was had to these galleries.[232] From the photographs, it is not clear where the steps were that lead to the first, but those leading from the first to the second and third were arranged like those at Sanchi (Woodcut No. 11) behind this frontispiece. Without a plan, however, it is difficult to make out exactly what the arrangement may have been.

A precisely similar arrangement of stairs exists on the four faces of the Abhayagiri and Jetawana dagobas, to that shown in the two Woodcuts Nos. 98, 99, and consists first of a plain base, above which is a frieze of elephants’ heads with paterÆ between them, very like those used in the metopes of the Roman Doric order; above this are three plain faces divided by ornamental string courses. Then a bracket cornice with paterÆ again, and above this two or three more cornices. Above this there was probably a parapet simulating a Buddhist rail.

At each end of this projecting arrangement were two stelÆ—at the Ruanwelli the inner covered by a foliaged pattern, the outer by a seven-headed Naga, as will be observed in the Woodcut No. 99; at the Abhayagiri, the inner stele is adorned with a pattern so nearly identical with that on the pillars of the western gateway at Sanchi,[233] that we have no difficulty in recognising them as belonging to about the same age; though this one, of course, is the older of the two (B.C. 104). On the other stele in this tope (Woodcut No. 100), we recognise the shield, the Swastica, the trisul, the conch (of Vishnu?) and all the other Buddhist emblems with which we are already familiar. The Naga here has a stele of his own and detached from the other two.

All this is architecturally so unlike anything we find of the same age on the continent of India, while its sculptured details are so nearly identical, that, when we come to know more about it, these differences and similarities may lead to most important inferences; but we must at present wait for the requisite information to enable us to see the bearing of these peculiarities.

Besides these four large buildings there are two smaller ones, known as the Thuparamaya and Lankaramaya, very similar to one

another in size and arrangement. The first-named is represented in Woodcut No. 101. The tope itself, though small and somewhat ruined, is of a singularly elegant bell-shaped outline.[234] Its diameter and height are nearly the same, between 50 ft. and 60 ft., and it stands on a platform raised about 9 ft. from the ground, on which are arranged three rows of pillars, which form by far the most important architectural ornament of the building. The inner circle stands about 2 ft. from the dagoba, and the other two about 10 ft. from each other. The pillars themselves are monoliths 26 ft. in height, of which the lower part, to the height of 9 ft., is left square, each side being about 1 ft. The next division, 14 ft. 6 in. in length, has the angles cut off, as is usual in this style, so as to form an octagon; the two parts being of one piece of granite. These sustain a capital of the same material, 2 ft. 6 in. in height.

Accounts differ as to the number of the pillars, as Mr. Knighton says they were originally 108;[235] whereas Captain Chapman counted 149, and states the original number to have been 184.[236]

This relic-shrine was erected by the celebrated king Devenampiatissa, about 250 years B.C., to contain the right jawbone of Buddha, which—say the Buddhist chroniclers—descending from the skies, placed itself on the crown of the monarch. As contemporary with Asoka it belongs to the most interesting period of Buddhist history, and is older, or, at least, as old, as anything now existing on the continent of India; and there is every reason to suppose it now exists, as nearly as may be, in the form in which it was originally designed, having escaped alteration,[237] and, what is more unusual in a Buddhist relic-shrine, having escaped augmentation. When the celebrated tooth relic was brought hither from India at the beginning of the 4th century, it was deposited in a small building erected for the purpose on one of the angles of the platform of this building, instead of being placed, as seems generally to have been the case, in a shrine on its summit, and eventually made the centre of a new and more extended erection. Perhaps it was an unwillingness to disturb the sacred circle of pillars that prevented this being done, or it may have been that the tooth relic, for some reason we do not now understand, was destined never to be permanently hid from the sight of its adorers. It is certain that it has been accessible during the last 2000 years, and is the only relic of its class that seems to have been similarly preserved and exhibited.

The Lankaramaya (Woodcut No. 102) is extremely similar to the last—though considerably more modern, having been erected A.D. 221—and looks of even more recent date than it really is, in consequence of a thorough repair some time ago, which has nearly obliterated its more ancient features.

As will be observed the two last-mentioned dagobas present us with a peculiarity not found on any example we have yet met with, inasmuch as they are surrounded by three circles of slender monolithic columns, of very elegant design. It can hardly be doubted that these represent, and take the place of, the rail of the northern topes, and subserve the same purpose, but in what manner is not at first sight very apparent. Referring, however, to what was said above, about the Ceylonese preferring painting to sculpture, it does not seem difficult to explain the anomaly. These pillars were originally, I fancy, connected with one another by beams of wood on their capitals, and from these, frames or curtains may have been suspended covered with the paintings which are so indispensable a part of Buddhist decoration. But it may be objected why three? or, as I believe, the Lankaramaya had originally, four such ranges of pillars? It is true the northern dagobas had generally only one rail, but that at Amravati had two, and as the great dagobas here had three procession-paths, while none of the northern ones had more than one, we should not be surprised if the smaller dagobas had three paths also, though differently arranged, and even then hardly capable of displaying the same amount of painting. When we come to describe the great temple of Boro Buddor in Java it will be seen that it had five procession-paths, and that their walls were sculptured, both inside and outside, with an amount of stone decoration which none of these Ceylonese topes could display, even in painting, by any arrangement we can now understand.

There is still another—the Saila dagoba—within the limits of the city, but so ruined that its architectural features are undistinguishable, though tradition would lead us to suppose it was the oldest in the place, belonging to a period even anterior to Sakya Muni. The spot at all events is said to have been hallowed by the presence of Kasyapa, the preceding Buddha.

Besides these, there are on the hill of Mehentele, a few miles to the north-east of the city, two important relic-shrines: one of the first class, erected on its summit to cover a hair that grew on the forehead of Buddha over his left eyebrow. The other, on a shoulder of the hill immediately below this, is of the same class as the Thuparamaya; a small central building surrounded by concentric rows of granite pillars, which, as appears to have been usual when this mode of decoration was employed, rose to half the height of the central mound.

There are, in addition to these, a great number of topes of various sorts scattered over the plain, but whether any of them are particularly interesting, either from their architecture or their history, has not been ascertained, nor will it be till the place is far more carefully surveyed than it has yet been.

There is another ruin at Anuradhapura, which, if a little more perfect, would be even more interesting than those topes. It goes by the name of the Lowa Maha Paya, or Great Brazen Monastery. We have a full account in the ‘Mahawanso’ of its erection by the pious king Duttagaimuni (B.C. 161),[238] according to a plan procured from heaven for the purpose—as well as a history of its subsequent destruction and rebuildings.

When first erected it is said to have been 100 cubits or 225 ft. square, and as high as it was broad; the height was divided into nine storeys, each containing 100 cells for priests, besides halls and other indispensable apartments. Nearly 200 years after its erection (A.D. 30) it required considerable repairs, but the first great disaster occurred in the reign of Mahasena, A.D. 285, who is said to have destroyed it utterly.[239] It was re-erected by his son, but with only five storeys instead of nine; and it never after this regained its pristine magnificence, but gradually fell into decay even before the seat of government was removed to Pollonarua. Since that time it has been completely deserted, and all that now remains are the 1600 pillars which once supported it. These generally consist of unhewn blocks of granite about 12 ft. high; some of the central ones are sculptured, and many have been split into two, apparently at the time of the great rebuilding after its destruction by Mahasena; as it is, they stand about 6 ft. apart from centre to centre in a compact phalanx, forty on each face, and covering a space of 250 ft. or 260 ft. each way. Upon the pillars must have been placed a strong wooden framing from which the remaining eight storeys rose, as in the modern Burmese monasteries, in a manner to be explained in a subsequent chapter.

There is only one difficulty, so far as I can see, in understanding the arrangement of the superstructure of this building, and that is the assertion of the ‘Mahawanso’ that it consisted of nine storeys—afterwards of five—each containing 100 apartments. For myself I have no hesitation in rejecting this statement as impossible, not only from the difficulty of constructing and roofing such a building, but because its form is so utterly opposed to all the traditions of Eastern art. If we turn back to Fa Hian or Hiouen Thsang’s description of the great Dekhani monastery (page 135) or to the great rath at Mahavellipore (Woodcut No. 66), or, indeed, to any of the 1001 temples of southern India, all of which simulate three, five, or nine-storeyed residences, we get a distinct idea of what such a building may have been if erected in the Indian style. It would, too, be convenient and appropriate to the climate, each storey having its terrace for walking or sleeping in the open air, and the whole easily constructed and kept in order. All this will be clearer in the sequel, but in the meanwhile it hardly appears doubtful that the Lowa Maha Paya was originally of nine, and subsequently of five storeys, each less in dimension than the one below it. The top one was surmounted as at Mahavellipore by a dome, but in this instance composed of brass—whence its name; and, gilt and ornamented as it no doubt was, it must have been one of the most splendid buildings of the East. It was as high as the topes, and, though not covering quite so much ground, was equal, in cubical contents, to the largest of our English cathedrals, and the body of the building was higher than any of them, omitting of course the spires, which are mere ornaments.

Besides these there are scattered about the ruins of Anuradhapura some half dozen, it may be a dozen, groups of pillars, whose use and purpose it would be extremely interesting to know something about. They all seem raised on a platform or stylobate, and approached by one or more flights of steps, of a highly ornamental character. One of these, leading to a group of pillars attached to the Ruanwelli dagoba, will convey some idea of their general character (Woodcut No. 103). At the foot of the flight of steps is a semicircular stone, popularly known in Ceylon as a moon stone (Woodcut No. 104). At least a dozen of these are known to exist at Anuradhapura and as many probably at Pollonarua. Some are large and some smaller than others, but they

are all nearly identical in design and quite peculiar to Ceylon—nothing of the sort having yet been found on the continent of India or elsewhere. Inside an outer ornamental ring is a procession of animals, divided from the next compartment by a richly elaborated scroll; within that again a row of birds bearing lotus buds, and then a lotus flower with a disc ornamented with circles. The animals are always elephants, lions, horses, and bulls, the birds either hansas, or sacred geese, or it may be pigeons. These, it will be recollected, are the animals which Fa Hian and Hiouen Thsang describe as ornamenting the five storeys of the great Dekhani monastery, and which, as we shall afterwards see, were also arranged at HullabÎd in the 13th century in precisely the same manner. For 1500 years they, and they only, seem to have been selected for architectural purposes, but why this was so we are yet unable to explain.[240]

The risers of these stairs, though not adorned with storeyed bas-reliefs, like those of the Jamalgiri monastery in Gandhara, are all richly ornamented, being divided generally into two panels by figures of dwarfs and framed by foliaged borders, while the jambs or flanking stones are also adorned by either figures of animals or bas-reliefs.

If we had plans or any architectural details of the pavilions to which these steps led, it probably would be easy to say to what purpose they were dedicated and how they were roofed. The photographs do not enable us to do either, but from them we gather that some of these halls were certainly enclosed by walls, as the outer side of the pillars is left rough and unsculptured, while those in the centre are sculptured all round. Meanwhile my impression is that they are the buildings Fa Hian describes as preaching halls—the chaitya or ceremonial halls attached to the great dagobas. In India the form these take is that of halls with simulated dagobas inside them, towards which the worship was addressed, but when a real dagoba existed 200 ft. to 400 ft. in diameter, what was wanted was a hall in which the priests could assemble to chant their liturgies, and from which to address their prayers to the great object of their reverence. If this were so, the axis of these halls ought to be turned towards the dagobas, but whether this was so or not is not yet ascertained.[241]

Besides these there is at Anuradhapura a temple called Isurumuniya, partly cut in the rock, partly structural, regarding which some information would be extremely interesting. Till within the last few years the pillars of its porch still carried the wooden beams of a roof, but whether it was the original one or a subsequent addition is by no means clear. From the mortises in the face of the rock I would be inclined to believe that it was at least in the original form, but the building has been so knocked about and altered in modern times, that it is impossible to speak with certainty regarding it. So far as can be judged from such photographs as have come home, I would be inclined to ascribe the original excavation to the 6th or 7th century. The architecture of the steps and the Naga dwarpals are all of the old pattern, but coarser and showing unmistakable signs of decadence.

To us these are the most interesting of the remains of the ancient city, but to a Buddhist the greatest and most sacred of the vestiges of the past is the celebrated Bo-tree. This is now reverenced and worshipped even amidst the desolation in which it stands, and has been worshipped on this spot for more than 2000 years; and thus, if not the oldest, is certainly among the most ancient of the idols that still command the adoration of mankind.

When Asoka sent his son Mahindo, and his daughter Sangamitta, to introduce Buddhism into Ceylon, one of the most precious things which they brought was a branch of the celebrated tree which still grows at Gaya[242] (Woodcut No. 16). The branch, so says the legend, spontaneously severed itself from the parent stem, and planted itself in a golden vase prepared for its reception. According to the prophecy, it was to be “always green, never growing nor decaying,” and certainly present appearances would go far to confirm such an assertion, for, notwithstanding its age, it is small, and, though healthy, does not seem to increase. Its being evergreen is only a characteristic of its species, the Ficus religiosa; our acquaintance with it, however, must extend over a longer series of years than it yet does, before we can speak with certainty as to its stationary qualities.

It grows from the top of a small pyramid, which rises in three terraces, each about 12 ft. in height, in the centre of a large square enclosure called the Maha Vihara. But though the place is large, sacred, and adorned with gates of some pretension, none of the architectural features which at present surround it are such as to require notice in a work like the present.

Pollonarua.[243]

Although very much more modern in date, and consequently less pure in style, the ruins at Pollonarua are scarcely less interesting than those of the northern capital to which it succeeded. They form a link between the ancient and modern styles at a time when the Buddhists had ceased to exist, or at least to build, on the continent of India, and, when properly illustrated, will enable us to speak with confidence of much that we find beyond the Ganges. Almost all we know at present of these ruins is due to the publications of Sir Emerson Tennent,[244] which, though most valuable contributions, are far from exhausting the subject. According to this authority, the principal ruins extend in a line nearly north and south for about a mile and a half from the palace to the Gal Vihara, and comprise two dagobas, besides a number of smaller edifices. The greater part seem to have been erected during the reign of Prakrama Bahu, 1153-86, though, as the city became the capital of the kingdom in the 8th century, it is probable that an intelligent search would reveal some of earlier date; while, as it was not deserted till 1235, some of them may also be more modern.

If not the oldest, certainly the most interesting group at Pollonarua is that of the rock-cut sculptures known as the Gal Vihara. They are not rock-cut temples in the sense in which the term is understood in India, being neither residences nor chaitya halls. On the left, on the face of the rock, is a figure of Buddha, seated in the usual cross-legged conventional attitude, 16 ft. in height, and backed by a throne of exceeding richness: perhaps the most elaborate specimen of its class known to exist anywhere. Next to this is a cell, with two pillars in front, on the back wall of which is another seated figure of Buddha, but certainly of a more modern aspect than that last described; that appearance may, however, be owing to whitewash and paint, which have been most liberally applied to it. Beyond this is a figure of Buddha, standing in the open air; and still further to the right another of him, lying down in the conventional attitude of his attaining Nirvana. This figure is 45 ft. long, while the standing one is only 25 ft. high.[245] These Nirvana figures are rare in India, but there is one in the most modern cave at Ajunta, No. 26, and others in the latest caves at Nassick and Salsette. None of these, however, so far as I know, ever attained in India such dimensions as these. In another century or two they might have done so, but the attainment of such colossal proportions is a sure sign of their being very modern.

In front of the Gal Vihara stands the principal religious group of

the city, consisting first of the Jayta Wana Rama Temple, 170 ft. long by 70 ft. wide (Woodcut No. 105), containing an erect statue of Buddha 58 ft. in height. On one side of it is the Kiri dagoba—on the right of the woodcut—with two smaller topes, standing on raised platforms, the whole space measuring 577 ft. by 500 ft., and was apparently at one time entirely filled with objects of religious adoration. The whole certainly belongs to the age of Prakrama-Bahu. It was, however, built of brick, and plastered, which gives it an appearance of inferiority even beyond what is due to the inferior style of that age.

Next in importance to this is the Rankot Dagoba, 180 ft. in diameter. This, though only half that of some of those in the older capital, is still larger than any known to exist on the continent of India. Its base is surrounded, like those in Burmah, by a number of small shrines, which at this age supplied the place of the pillars or of the rails which formed so important a part of the structure of the older examples.

At some distance from this, and near the palace, stands the Sat Mehal Prasada (Woodcut No. 106), which is one of the most interesting buildings of the place, as it is one of the most perfect representations existing of the seven-storeyed temples of Assyria already described, vol. i. page 152, et seqq. That this is a lineal descendant of the Birs Nimroud can hardly be doubted. It is also interesting as affording a hint as to the appearance of the five or nine-storeyed monasteries mentioned in a previous page (196). This one, however, never was a residence, nor does it simulate one, like the raths at Mahavellipore or other buildings in the Dravidian style, which will be described in a subsequent chapter.

In front of it lies a splendid dolmen, or stone table, 26 ft. long, 4 ft. broad, and 2 ft. thick. It would be interesting to know if the dolmen rests on the ground, or is supported on three or more upright stones—most probably the latter. Like most of the Indian examples, it appears to be a squared and carved repetition of what in Europe we find only rough and unhewn. The carving on its border represents a number of hansas or sacred geese—always a favourite subject of the Buddhist sculptors.[246] At one end of this stone is engraved a representation of Sri, with her two elephants with their water-pots (Woodcut No. 2); and I fancy I can detect her also in other photographs elsewhere in Ceylon, but not so distinctly as to feel sure.

Close to the Sat Mehal is a circular building, which, so far as is at present known, is unique. It may almost be described as a hollow dagoba, being a circular enclosure surrounded by a wall, but empty in the centre, at least containing nothing now. Originally, it may have had a shrine in its centre, or tabernacle of some sort, containing a relic or, more probably, a sacred Tree. It is surrounded by a procession-path, enclosed by a highly-ornamental screen, and beyond this by a second gallery adorned with a range of slender pillars, like those which surround the dagobas at Anuradhapura (Woodcut No. 107); below this, again, is a richly-carved stylobate.

Four flights of steps lead up to its procession-paths, more magnificent and elaborate than any others that have yet been discovered in Ceylon. They all have most elaborate moon stones to start from. Their risers are each adorned with twelve figures of dwarfs, and their side-pieces, or jambs, are also of exceptional richness, and each has a pair of Naga-headed dwarpals on each side of its upper flight. The photographs are sufficient to show that this is one of the most interesting buildings in Ceylon, as well as one of the richest in sculptural decorations; but unless the antiquities of Java throw some light on the subject, we must be content with ignorant admiration till some one capable of investigating its history visits the place.[247]

Besides these, there are in Pollonarua several of those groups of pillars, without roofs or walls, which we tried to describe in speaking of Anuradhapura. One, called the Audience Hall, seems to be very similar to those of the northern capital; another, known as the Hetti Vihara, is more extensive, and may really be the foundation of a vihara; but till we have plans and more details it is needless speculating on what they may or may not have been.

Although built in brick, and very much ruined, there still exist in Pollonarua a palace and a vihara—the Abhayagiri—which was really a residence, and whose examination would, no doubt, throw considerable light on the arrangement of similar buildings in India. That information might, however, be difficult to obtain, and, till the simpler and more monumental buildings are examined and drawn, its investigation may well be postponed.

Besides these, Pollonarua possesses another point of interest of considerable importance, though hardly germane to our present subject. Among its ruins are several buildings in the Dravidian style of architecture, whose dates could easily, I fancy, be at least approximately ascertained. One of these is called the Dalada Maligawa, apparently from its possessing at one time the tooth relic; for it is hardly probable that when migrating southward for fear of the Tamils they would have left their cherished palladium behind them. If it was sheltered here, and this was the first building erected to receive it, it would be a most important landmark in the very vague chronology of that style. Another, though called the Vishnu Deyanne Dewala, was certainly either originally, or is now, dedicated to the worship of Siva, as is testified by the presence of the bull alongside of it, and also apparently on its roof. But be this as it may, it is the lowest and flattest of those buildings I have yet met with, and more like a direct literal copy from a constructive vihara than even the raths at Mahavellipore (Woodcut No. 181). This may arise either from its being a copy of an actual vihara existing at the time it was built, or to its being very old. Those at Mahavellipore, even if older than this one, may have gone through certain stages towards their present conventional forms before they were cut in the rock. But more of this hereafter.

It is unfortunate for the history of architecture in Ceylon that the oldest and finest of her rock-cut temples—as those, for instance, at Dambul and Dunumadala Kanda—are only natural caverns, slightly improved by art; and those mentioned above, as the Isurumuniya at Anuradhapura, and Gal Vihara at Pollonarua, besides being comparatively modern, have very little architecture about them, and that little by no means of a good class. Generally speaking, what architecture these Ceylonese caves do possess is developed on applied faÇades of masonry, never of the same age as the caves themselves, and generally more remarkable for grotesqueness than beauty. Besides, the form of these caves being accidental, they want that interest which attaches so strongly to those of India, as illustrating the religious forms and ceremonies of the early Buddhists. Indeed, their only point of interest seems to consist in their being still used for the celebration of the same rites to which they were originally dedicated 2000 years ago.

Conclusion.

Although the above sketch cannot pretend to be anything like a complete and exhaustive treatise on the subject, it may probably be accepted, as far as it goes, as a fairly correct and intelligible description of Buddhist architecture in India. We certainly know the beginning of the style, and as certainly its end. The succession of the buildings hardly admits of doubt, and their dates are generally ascertained within very narrow limits of error. A great deal more must, of course, be done before all the examples are known and all the lacunÆ filled up; but this is being rapidly done, and in a few years from this time all that is necessary to complete the history may be available for the purpose. It is hardly probable, however, that anything will be now discovered in India which will materially alter the views put forward in the preceding pages. Another discovery like General Cunningham’s at Bharhut may reward the industry of explorers; but even that, though it has given breadth and precision to our inquiries, and added so much to our stores of knowledge, has altered little that was known before. What was written in my work on ‘Tree and Serpent Worship’ before the discovery was made, has, in almost every instance, been confirmed, and in no important particular modified or changed; and our knowledge is now so extended, it probably will be the same in other cases. It is difficult, however, to form an opinion on the chances of any such discoveries being now made. The one important building we miss of which accounts have reached us, is the rock-cut monastery described by the Chinese Pilgrims (ante, p. 135). If it was rock-cut, it almost certainly exists, and may yet be found in some of the unexplored parts of the Nizam’s territory. If it is discovered, it will throw more light on Buddhist architecture in the first century of our era than anything yet brought to light. That it did exist seems hardly doubtful, inasmuch as we have in the great rath at Mahavellipore (Woodcut No. 66) a literal copy of it—on a small scale, it is true—but so perfect that it certainly is not a first attempt to repeat, in a monolithic form, a class of building that must have been very common at the time this was attempted.

Be this as it may, even such a sketch as that contained in the preceding pages is sufficient to prove that it is almost impossible to overrate the importance of architecture and its associated arts in elucidating and giving precision to our knowledge of Buddhist history and mythology, from the time when it became the religion of the state till it perished in so far as India was concerned. In the rails at Buddh Gaya and Bharhut, with the eastern caves, we have a complete picture of Buddhism as it existed during the great Mauryan dynasty (B.C. 325 to B.C. 188). At Sanchi and the western caves we have as complete a representation of the form it took from the first century before our era to the third or fourth after it. At Amravati, and from the Gandhara monasteries, we learn what modifications had been introduced before and during the 4th century; and from the Ajunta and later caves we trace its history downward through its period of decay till it became first almost Jaina and then faded away altogether.

During the first half of this thousand years we have no contemporary records except those written in stone, and during the latter we have no books we can depend upon; but the architecture, with its sculptures and paintings, remain, and bear the indelible impress of the thoughts, the feelings, and the aspirations of those who executed them, and supply us with a vast amount of exact knowledge on the subject which is not attainable by any other means now known to us.