Leaving JogyÅkartÅ by steamtram or by carriage, and driving through the dessa of Muntilan—properly speaking a Chinese settlement—,turning two or three miles farther on near the stopping-place of Kalangan, 8 miles south of Magelang, into a by-path leading westward to the BÅrÅbudur, we, within an hour, shall arrive at the real javanese village of Mendut, which is situated on the left bank of the river Élo. On this spot, as it were under the shadow of the Buddha temple, eleven centuries old at least, a Roman Catholic mission built a little church and parsonage, and opened a school for javanese children.

Living Christianity near the ruins of dead Buddhism!

Heavy teak wooden scaffoldings surrounded these ruins on all sides, and on the north-western frontside solid wooden stairs lead upward till under the attap[10] temporary roof. This was to protect the BÅrÅbudur’s pyramidical roof (at that time not yet shut off again) and protect also the three almost undamaged gigantic images from rain and sun-blaze. This scaffolding still appeared as a witness of W. A. van de Kamer’s clever diligence. Some eleven years ago, when in Government’s service as official for ways and roads, he got the order given to him by choice, to begin the work of restoration, and that above his own work as overseer in service of the Department of Public Works. Notwithstanding, he continued for three years this enterprise trusted to him, and without any other reward but the title of architect the diploma of which he had already got in Netherland for many years ago. Under his command, and without any accident, he had the heavy and badly menaced pyramidic roof brought downward, and he succeeded in having the decaying and declining walls erected again, and that in a manner (as I once witnessed) unconditionally admired by competent experts, among whom I know high-placed engineer officers. But his work became unjustly objected by the philological president of a newly appointed BÅrÅbudur committee he saw suddenly placed above him (van de Kamer), and the pitiable manner in which the former official induced him to ask for exemption from the labour dear to him, and to retire from Government’s service some years afterwards, I already explained and blamed in 1901 by means of some non-published writings, because the latter, still subordinate at that time, could not defence himself, and above all, because of my being competent and obliged to do so as an honest man, loyal to the ancient device: “Fais ce que dois, advienne que pourra”. Even to me this deed became a source of misunderstanding and grief.

The first striking thing we see is that, in contravention to almost all other buddhistic buildings, the frontage of these ruins have not been placed opposite to the East, the sun-rise, but strange enough, opposite to the Northwest. When I first visited this temple in 1875 I saw that the porch which had been built before this frontage, had partly disappeared. Only its side-walls, the greater part at least, and fortunately, the two interesting sculptures had remained. This was also the case with the 14 large stone steps leading from without to the same porch, and flanked by heavy holds in the form of the garu?a-nÂga ornament we are going to know by-and-by.

The colossal pyramidic roof, and part of the front wall above and north of the entrance to the inner-room were greatly lost.

The two sculptures before the entrance show us, to the left, a princess in a garden of fruit-trees, with a suckling at her breast, and many playing children all round about her. And opposite to them, to the right, we see an Indian,—not buddhistic—prince with much more children in such another garden.

All the children wear a crescent of the moon on the hind part of their heads, but both the children and their parents miss everything that might have spoken of a buddhistic character. The prince himself wears a three stringed cord of a caste (upavÎta), and is therefore characterised as a not buddhistic one. Buddhism doesn’t know any caste.

Nevertheless, there are Dutch scholars who suppose this prince to be Buddha’s father, this woman Buddha’s mother. Even professor Kern wrote to me that this woman with her suckling should be nobody else but May with her son in Lumbini garden. The Indian prince however, remained inexplicable.

The buddhistic king of Siam, Chula Longkorn, gave me in 1896 another and far better explanation which solved all difficulties, and to which I’ll come back again after having first given a superficial description of the gigantic images we see in this temple.

Let us therefore enter through the opened iron railing now replacing the wooden inner door, which for more than some 70 years ago, was used perhaps, as fire-wood.

The space before the unadorned south-easterly back-wall is occupied by a heavy altar-shaped throne not yet long ago newly built in an exceedingly simple style.

And on this throne sits a colossal Buddha image, by no means however, a nude one, so as professor Veth wrongly wrote in his standard work: “Java,” but this is dressed in the cowl of the southern Buddhists uncovering his right shoulder and arm; his two legs dangling and resting on a small cushion with his two hands before his breast in such a posture (mudrÂ) as the MahÂyÂnists, the followers of the “Big Carriage” of the northern church, generally (not always) give to the first of their five DhyÂni-Buddhas. In Ceylon and in Farther India however, there where HÎnayÂnism of the southern church still exists, which doesn’t know any DhyÂni-Buddha, this posture simply means “blessing.”

To the right of this Buddha nearly 4 yards high, we see a buddhistic prince seated on a throne abundantly decorated with nÂgas, lions, and elephants, and ornamented with lotus-cushions and feet cushions. The monk’s hood, the bottom of which goes under the princely garb over his left shoulder and breast, and the small Buddha image in his crown characterise him as a Buddhist, and that in contradistinction to the other prince we see opposite him, to the left of the Buddha. And though this prince also has his seat on an equally richly ornamented throne, yet we don’t see any image in his crown, and then he doesn’t wear a monk’s hood, but only the three-stringed upavÎta which characterises him as not buddhistic.

On this ground professor Kern thought this Indian prince as inexplicable as the other one we saw in the porch before the entrance.

The two kings wear the prabha, or disk of light, on the back part of their heads. Buddha does not, or no more; for this may have been fixed to the wall of the temple, and afterwards fallen down after that the image itself had slidden from its seat, or before its having been placed there[11].

On account of the posture of his hands before his breast there are some Dutch scholars who suppose this Buddha to be the first DhyÂni-Buddha Vairotyana, and the two other princes they think to be Bodhisattvas or future Buddhas, whilst the one on the north-easterly wall is said to be the fourth DhyÂni-Bodhisatthva, PadmapÂni because of his being provided with a small image of the fourth DhyÂni-Buddha, AmitÂbha, in his crown.

Which Bodhisatthva we then must see in that other image nobody could tell us, because it misses all attributes.

This however, is also the case with the buddhistic king’s image, and though it may be provided with a Buddha image in its crown, occasionally given to some Bodhisatthvas, yet it doesn’t characterise every wearer as such.

Moreover, I more than once demonstrated that all the crowns are provided with no other image but the one of the Buddha himself in his posture of meditation (or rest after death), and therefore we can’t accept these images to be Bodhisatthvas, or more especially PadmapÂni, the Bodhisattva of the fourth DhyÂni-Buddha who, after all, should have been characterised by this Bodhisatthva’s usual attribute, the padma or lotus placed near his face. But these two images also miss this flower and the stem of the lotus which the Bodhisatthvas generally keep in their left hands. Sometimes however, we see them in their right hand, and the flower with the symbol above one or two leaves.

So the meaning of the mentioned scholars doesn’t explain these 3 images whereas Siam’s king, on his visiting this temple in 1896, satisfactorily interpreted the north-westerly image, wearing, like he does himself, a Buddha image in his crown, to be perhaps the king of the buddhistic empire, under whose reign the BÅrÅbudur was built.

Further he supposed the other image to be the latter’s not-buddhistic father and predecessor whilst both father and son (the latter afterwards became a buddhist), might have been honoured by their descendants who brought together the two images in this sanctuary under the blessing of the only Buddha, the redeemer of this world. So this Buddha image has nothing to do with any DhyÂni-Buddha, and by no means with the first of them.