CHAPTER IX

THE STONES OF THE BORO BUDOOR

... la vérité rendue expressive et parlante, élevée à la hauteur d’une idée. ERNEST RENAN, _Vie de Jésus_ (_Introduction_).

The _pasangrahan_, built for the convenience of visitors to the Boro Budoor, offers fair accommodation to the student of oriental architecture and lover of art in whatever form. Also to a good many who feel it incumbent on them to be able to say: “I have taken everything in,” or who have quite other ends in view than communion with the thought of distant ages: foreign tourists whose principal care is to exhibit trunks and travelling-bags covered with labels of out-of-the-beaten-track hotels while their brains remain hopelessly empty; junketers of domestic growth, often in couples whose irregular relations seek shelter behind the excuse of “doing” the island, and heartily disinclined to practise the virtues preached in the reliefs of the shrine of shrines, particularly down on continence. So even the Philistines derive advantage, after the notions of their kind, from the ramshackle fabric of vile heathenism, as this magnificent temple has been called by one of their number, and its visitors’ book tells a sorry tale of irreclaimable vulgarity; the wit, laboriously aimed at in many entries, but widely missed, partakes altogether too much (minus the element of _badinage_) of the answer given by a young naval officer to an old aunt when she asked him where, in his opinion, the most striking natural scenery of Java was to be found: At Petit Trouville,[143] said he, on Sunday in the dry season.

The _pasangrahan’s_ guests of that ilk are generally no early risers and their company is therefore not likely to mar the impression received of the Boro Budoor at second sight after supper, supplied by the army pensioner in charge of the place, and a night’s sound rest. Looking tranquillity itself, the vast pile charms and soothes the heart, notwithstanding its enormous size, before the intellect, scrutinising its outline, begins to marvel at the unaccustomed form the builder has chosen to proclaim his idea. Save one or two temples in _hinayanistic_ Burmah, which present a faint resemblance, nothing else can be named as producing the same effect, but then, wrote Fergusson for the land where the creed was born that inspired its founder, it must be remembered that not a single structural Buddhist building now exists within the cave region of Western India. Rising light and airy for all its grandeur, it expresses more strength than a mere massing together of the ponderous material in huge walls and buttresses and towers could have done; its quiet consciousness of power is enhanced by its strange beauty of contour in perfect harmony with its setting of living colour. There it lies, clasping together the sapphire sky and the emerald garden of Java.

The _mahayanistic_ character of the Boro Budoor is well attested by the Dhyani Buddhas among its statuary, despite the opinion of Siamese connoisseurs, and by its further ornamental sculpture, of which more anon. Meant for a reliquary, it may or may not be, in the absence of historical proof pro or contra, one of the 84,000 _stupas_ consecrated to receive and hold a fractional portion of the Indian Saviour’s remains after King Asoka had opened seven of the depositories of his ashes in the eight towns among which his remains were originally divided, to make the whole world share in their blessed possession. Who has not heard of the transfer, in the ninth year of the reign of Sirimeghavanna, A.D. 310, of the Dathadathu, the holy tooth, from Dantapura to Ceylon, where it became the _mascotte_, so to speak, the pledge of undisturbed dominion to the rulers of the island who should control its guardians. The sacrosanct yellow piece of dentin, about the length of the little finger,[144] enclosed in nine concentric cases of gold, inlaid with diamonds, rubies and pearls, is but rarely shown, far more rarely than even the seamless coat at Treves, and then under conditions of excessive adoration. But, notwithstanding all this pomp and circumstance, who that has visited the Dalada Malagawa at Kandy and the Boro Budoor in Java, can fail to prefer the latter, though sacrilegious robbers have carried off its relic, leaving the desecrated shrine to decay.

The wordy war waged around the etymology of the name Boro Budoor, did not solve the mystery of its origin; all derivations thus far suggested are mere guess-work and unsatisfactory, whatever reasons be adduced for Roorda van Eysinga’s explanation that it means an enclosed space, or Raffles’ surmise that it is a corruption of Bara (the great) Buddha, or the late King of Siam’s that it refers to the (spiritual) army of the Buddha, if not to the several Buddhas, as alleged by others. One of the oldest existing monuments in the island, the foundation of the _chandi_ Boro Budoor has been attributed by native tradition to Raden Bandoong, already known from the legends connected with the _chandis_ Prambanan and Sewu, who, as King of Pengging, assumed the name of Handayaningrat. Professor Kern[145] puts the date of the substructure at about 850, allowing several years for its completion--if ever it was fully completed, for this temple, like the _chandi_ Mendoot near by, the _chandi_ Bimo on the Diëng plateau and so many more, shows traces of the work having been suspended before the decoration was quite finished. Sculpture just commenced or little further advanced than the bare outlining, found on the walls, especially of the covered base; divers blocks of stone half transformed into ornament and statuary, Dhyani Buddhas and lions, very illustrative of the methods followed at different stages of the carving, lying forsaken on the slope and summit of a neighbouring hillock, disclose an interruption of the labour by some event of tremendous consequence.[146] Rather than accept the theory that the ancient temples of Java were left intentionally defective from religious motives, viz. to emphasise the sense of human imperfection as an incentive to humility and prostration before the divine, we may believe in the Merapi, that wicked old giant, having asserted himself in one of his destructive moods, belching forth flames and ashes, shaking and burying the handiwork of Hindu and Buddhist pygmies with strictest impartiality. Standing on the first of the highest terraces on the south side, says an article[147] in the _Javapost_ of December 5, 1903, one observes a bulging out of the lower terraces, best accounted for by a violent earthquake in a southerly direction. When the galleries were cleared in 1814 and 1834, the volcanic character of the detritus which filled them (ashes from the Merapi, wrote Roorda van Eysinga in 1850) and also forms the substratum of the rubbish still unremoved from the once enclosed grounds of the _chandi_ Mendoot, furnished strong evidence in support of an eruption of the nearest fire-mountain having been the cause of the precipitate flight, perhaps the death in harness, of the builders. Of the preservation of their work too, in so far as finished, for, to speak again with the writer in the _Javapost_, the very fact of its having been embedded has saved much of its artistic detail; and the reason why some of the sculptured parts are damaged to a far greater extent than others adjoining, is probably that they were exposed earlier and longer. Deterioration and demolition set in rapidly when wind and weather began to ravage the wholly unprotected edifice, when unscrupulous collectors wrought havoc unchecked.

The Boro Budoor was never hidden from view to the point of blotting out its existence from memory. I shall have occasion to refer to native chronicles mentioning it in the eighteenth century. To speak of its rediscovery by Cornelius is therefore inaccurate though we owe to that clever Lieutenant of Engineers, purposely sent to the Kadu by Raffles, in 1814, the first scientific survey and description with elucidating drawings. Except for the publication, in 1873, of Dr. C. Leemans’ book with an atlas containing illustrations after drawings by F. C. Wilsen, and the mission of I. van Kinsbergen to obtain photographic reproductions of the reliefs, the Dutch Government left the matchless temple entirely to its fate until very recently. An official correspondence, kept trailing indefinitely to invest ministerial promises regarding the antiquities of Java with a semblance of sincerity, had the usual negative effect. Whenever a colonial Excellency declared with unctuous pomposity that the most conscientious care would be taken of the Boro Budoor, a monument of incalculable value considered from the standpoint of science and art, most brilliant memento of the island’s historic past, etc., etc., those versed in the phraseology of Plein and Binnenhof at the Hague trembled in expectation of bad news of criminal negligence, theft and mutilation to follow. The later history of the “brilliant memento” agrees but too well with the ominous prognostics derived from such dismal parliamentary fustian. A great poet sang of things of beauty scarce visible from extreme loveliness: the readily movable things of beauty constituting the loveliness of the Boro Budoor, became invisible _sans phrase_. We are told in legendary lore of statues which flew through the air to take domicile at enormous distances from their proper homes, or vanished altogether, dissolving into space: the statues of the Boro Budoor developed that faculty in an astonishing degree; if handicapped by great weight or solid attachment to the main structure, bent on travelling _à tout travers_, they sent their heads alone to seek recreation and instruction in the varying ways of the world, and their heads did never return, either because they were amusing themselves too jollily away from the austerities of the eight-fold path or because they found themselves unavoidably detained in durance vile.

The remaining, mostly headless statues are sad to behold, and the fishy account given of their defective condition, that, namely, the Buddhists, beleaguered in the sanctuary by the Muhammadans, battling _pro aris et focis_, drove the enemies off by bombarding them with the Lord of Victory’s noble features, hewn in stone, smacks of a too ingenious evasion of the disgraceful facts.[148] The chronicles are silent on such a desperate struggle in that locality between the conquering hosts of Islām and the followers of him who pleaded peace, love and goodwill, whose doctrine and example alike forbade strife and armed resistance. Not that there has been no fighting round and even within the walls of the Boro Budoor among the Javanese engaged in internecine warfare and during the insurrection of Dipo Negoro,[149] but the story of the using up of the statuary in the shape of missiles, has no leg to stand on. In the Java War (1825-1830) the Dutch troops erected a temporary fort near the temple, but it is improbable that _chandi_ material entered into its construction, not because the warriors of the Government would have scrupled to destroy any ancient monument, but because the Boro Budoor stones are exceedingly heavy and earthen fortifications amply sufficed against native bands without artillery. Though cavalry in particular never enjoyed a high reputation in respect of their relations to art,[150] there does not seem to be any more substance in the confession of a _ci-devant_ commander of a squadron of hussars, cited by Brumund, that his men used to try the temper of their swords on the ears and noses of the silent host of Dhyani Buddhas when the rebels of Sentot and Kiahi Maja were not available.

The true misfortune of the Boro Budoor was official indifference and negligence; and far more injurious than the fretting tooth of time or even the merciless hand of the spoiler combined with the provoking _laissez aller_ yawned in periodical circulars from the central administration, from Sleepy Hollow at Batavia, was the dabbling in archaeology of ambitious persons who posed as discoverers, the less their aptitude to digest their desultory reading, the more arrogant their cock-sureness where famous scholars reserved _their_ conclusions. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing and might have proved disastrous to the venerable temple in combination with one of their vaunted discoveries, which established beyond doubt what not a few knew well enough and never had doubted of, viz. that there was a gallery lower than its lowest uncovered terrace, wisely filled up to increase the stability of the building, very probably soon after or even before the erection of the upper storeys. The removal of the supporting layers of stone impaired, of course, the general condition of the structure and the good news of its being again in its former state, was received by many with a sigh of relief. This happened in 1885 with great flourish of trumpets, and the only benefit derived, certainly not of sufficient importance to balance the inevitable weakening of the foundations attendant on such excavations, consisted in the bringing to light of rude, scarcely decipherable inscriptions or rather scratchings,[151] and the intelligence that of the photographed sculptures, in which, so far, no representation of connected events has been recognised, twenty-four are unfinished and thirteen damaged--six wholly smashed. In 1900 new shafts were sunk for new discoveries of the long and widely known, and while this pernicious dilettantism was going on, pseudo-archaeologists vying with professed iconoclasts who should do most harm to the Boro Budoor, the Government confined itself to antiquarian pyrotechnics at the yearly debates on the colonial budget in Parliament.

The Boro Budoor being undermined and gradually scattered to the four winds, it was but natural that the natives, following the example set by the elect, even by the elect of the elect acting in this or that official capacity, who used, for instance, _chandi_ stones for the flooring of the Government _pasangrahan_,--that the inhabitants of the neighbouring _kampongs_ should carry off what appeared suitable for their own ends, and the least heavy _jataka_ reliefs claimed their first attention. So things went from bad to worse and the most disastrous year, a veritable _annus calamitatis_ for the Boro Budoor, arrived with 1896, when the late King of Siam paid his second visit to Java. Much interested, as was to be expected of a ruler of a Buddhist country, in the Buddhist monuments of the island, so interested, in fact, that his Majesty tried to put the _mahayanistic_ temples of the Kadu to the credit of his own, the _hinayanistic_ church, his endeavours in this kind of mental annexation inspired authorities, eager to share in the honours of Siamese Knighthood (White Elephant, Crown of Siam, etc.) distributed with right royal generosity, to urge him to annexation in deed. If foreign visitors of little account had been permitted to help themselves in a small way to “souvenirs” for a consideration to keepers’ underlings left without control, why should foreign visitors of distinction not be served wholesale? His Majesty Chulalongkorn, to whom no blame attaches for gratifying his desire where he found Dutch functionaries, high and low, more than willing to oblige, was invited to make his choice and we must still thank him for his moderation, which limited the quantity of sculpture selected to eight cart-loads: there is scarcely a doubt that if he had requested them to pull part of the Boro Budoor down in consideration of Knight Commander- or Grand Masterships in this or that Order, the official conscience would have raised no objection. This came to pass, of course, after a more than usually fine flow, at the Hague, of ministerial rhetoric anent the priceless heritage Holland has to protect in the “brilliant mementos of Java’s historic past,” and the lover of ancient Buddhist architecture who wants to make a study of its acknowledged masterpiece, must now of necessity travel on to the banks of the Meynam to get an idea of some of its most characteristic imagery, not to speak of fragments of ornament and statuary removed by tourists of commoner complexion and dispersed heaven knows where.

This instance of the ancient monuments of Java being officially despoiled to please crowned heads and other visitors in exalted stations, _pour le bon motif_, seemed so incredible that, when I censured it in the Dutch East Indian Press, the Dutch Press, over-zealous in hiding colonial enormities, also _pour le bon motif_, considered it an easy task to deny, waxing eloquently indignant at the denunciation until in regular, normal sequence, always observable in the perennial case of Dutch whitewashing versus colonial boldness of speech, the correctness of the statement could no longer be assailed, new evidence accumulating steadily, Mr. J. A. N. Patijn, for one, describing, in the _Kroniek_ and the _Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsch Indië_, a collection displayed near the Wat Pra Keo at Bangkok and brought thither from Java in 1896.[152] The frolicking monkeys doubtless, the people of the large cheek-bones, represented on some reliefs thus transferred, prompted an enthusiastic, genuine archaeologist’s imprecation on the heads of the guilty official and non-official toadies, inasmuch as he wished them, if there be anything in the dogma of Karma, which provides for our sins being visited on us in lives to come, that their least punishment might be their transformation, when called to new birth, into apes abandoned to ceaseless squabbles over their _kanari_-nuts (honours, dignities, preferment with big salaries, fat pensions, etc.), clawing one another with their sharp nails, to find at last that all the shells are empty. Desisting from a profitless discussion on the possibilities of retribution in a future existence, it requires to be stated that the official mind needed several years’ reflection in this before reaching the conclusion that really, in the matter of the conservation of the Boro Budoor something more was wanted than the periodical outbursts of gushing sentiment, grossly disregarded in practice, which are _le moyen de parvenir_ of Dutch colonial politicians. The independents of the colonial Press, however, had at last the satisfaction that Captain T. van Erp of the Engineers was detailed to take the work of restoration in hand, building himself a house in the shadow of the _chandi_ confided to his care, anxious to direct the necessary labours on the spot. Stationed there since August, 1907, his promotion to the rank of Major fortunately did not result in the withdrawal of his services from the archaeological field and, the climax of laxness with regard to the Boro Budoor having been capped in the Siamese episode, brighter days may dawn for that venerable edifice.

One of the rooms of the _pasangrahan_, reserved, under the old dispensation, for the storing of detached pieces of sculpture, was called the sample-room because, according to current report, orders were taken there for the delivery of such still undetached ornament and statuary as might have struck the visitors’ fancy. Other images lined the path from the _pasangrahan_ to the temple, among them two Dhyani Buddhas, a fine Akshobhya and a still finer Amitabha, and lions, the poor remainder of those which once adorned the steps leading to the raised level of the building, whence the name: Avenue of Lions. Seemingly commanded to descend from the places where they kept guard as solitary sentinels, and to unite for defence at the point of greatest danger, terrible havoc was wrought in their ranks by the onslaught of souvenir-hunters, and one of their large-limbed, beautifully chiselled chiefs, who himself watched the entrance with a vauntful air as if proclaiming to foe and friend alike: _Et s’il n’en reste qu’un, moi je serai celui-là_, had to suffer the ignominy of being captured and carried off to Siam--which proves his Majesty Chulalongkorn’s good taste: it was the best specimen of animal carving on that scale in Java. These are no cheerful reflections when approaching the eminence skillfully converted into a _stupa_ whose equal, both in originality of design and cleverness of execution, can nowhere be found. Though India furnished its prototype, the style here evolved baffles, on close examination, all comparison. The only building it can be likened to is the Taj Mahal at Agra, and only in this single respect while differing in all others, that, conceived by a titanic intellect, the delicate decoration suggests the minute precision of the jeweller’s craft. Opening and closing a distinct chapter in architecture, this admirable production rises in terraces which form galleries round the hill-top, enclosed by walls, spaced on the outside by 432 niches for statues of the Buddha with _prabha_ (aureole) and _padmasana_ (lotus cushion), on the inside with representations illustrating sacred and profane writings in bas-relief; the galleries of the superstructure raised on the square ground-plan, become circular and are bounded by 72 bell-shaped _chaityas_ containing statues of the Buddha without either _prabha_ or _padmasana_, or any ornament whatever. The profuse decoration of their surroundings never detracts from the powerfully expressed central idea of praise to the Enlightened One, the one who has fulfilled his end; the repetition of the motives manifesting the religious purpose, directs rather than confuses the attention of the worshipper in their multiformity of application. The spiritual father of the Boro Budoor must have been a man of strong mental grasp, of honest masculine endeavour stimulated by a highly sensitive temperament; his work, “a goodly heap for to behold,” growing in dignity and beauty the closer it is observed, a realisation of the sublimest aspirations of Buddhist Java, will perpetuate also, as long as it can endure, the memory of his own superior mind.

The constructive ability of this gifted builder was no less wonderful than his mastery of detail in aid of his main intent. A clever system of drainage attests to the foresight of his workmanship; but the gutters remaining filled up and the gargoyles (open-mouthed _nagas_) choked after the excavation of the galleries in 1814 and 1834, without any one thinking of clearing them too, the water had to flow off as best it could in the torrential rains of successive west monsoons, filtering through the fissures between the stones, passing down to the foundations and adding, in oozing out, to the causes of decay by washing the supporting layers of earth and gravel away. The staircases and passageways to the different terraces and galleries are constructed with the accurate sense of right proportion which distinguishes the natives of the island up to this day, and their _naga_- and _kala-makara_ ornament belongs to the most impressive part of the graceful decoration. In our ascent from lower to higher planes of understanding, increasing in perception of the mysteries of life and death, the Banaspati shows the road, the Hindu-Javanese Gorgon’s head as Horsfield called it, appropriated by Buddhist architecture, figurating the terrors of error it faces while budding forth in the promise of further guidance for whoso shall leave the world’s delusions, a loved wife, a young-born son, to seek the truth in pursuance of the Buddha’s ordinance: no intimidation which threatens with the pains of hell all who dare to disobey the dictates of priestly ambition, but an assurance of beatitude gained by self-purification. The staircases of the superstructure correspond with the four approaches leading up the hillock to the temple-yard; in the course of the excavations, undertaken to facilitate the work of restoration, one of them, very much out of repair, has been laid bare. The reconstruction of the lower principal staircase, whose original position has now been determined, will result, it is hoped, in the removal of the unsightly flight of uneven steps masquerading as the main entrance at the corner opposite the _pasangrahan_; and, perhaps, to provide one worthy of site and building, the Government will not haggle over the modest sum required for the re-erection of the monumental gate whose remains were discovered adjoining the balustrade of the spacious elevated platform.

On entering the galleries, establishing contact with this symmetrical embodiment of highly spiritualised thought in the strongly knit language of chiselled stone, to mount to the state of the perfect disciple, spurred by the figured evolution of the four degrees of Dhyana which lead to supreme happiness, the pilgrim must have experienced, as we do, the sensation of physical well-being imparted by the splendour of nature wrapping human longings in sunshine and the delicious odour exhaled by mother earth. The luxurious emotion increases, despite nirvanic chastening, and among the serene images of the higher terraces, who can remain unmoved in contemplation of the ancient temple lifting its dagob to the blue heaven, of its hoary walls touched by the golden light, quivering in desire of sacred communion! Nor do we cease to marvel when turning from the general idea of universal solidarity, enunciated in an irreproachable architectural form, to the expository details of decoration. The ornament accommodates itself with amazing facility to the characteristic tendencies of the ground-plan, never perverting the central purpose, which dominates in a most felicitous combination of the two principles separately developed for western ends in the classic and gothic styles: the horizontal expansion to allow thinking space to the brain and the mystic pointing upward to satisfy the cravings of the heart. Both found application in the Boro Budoor, their unity of thought in diversity of expression being consolidated by an inexhaustible wealth of imagery, elucidating accessories, filled as it is “with sculptures rarest, of forms most beautiful and strange.” Faithful in choice of subject and manner of representation to the notions of its time, bodying forth things unknown to our age, the ornament surprises by its fanciful invention and peculiar treatment, though always in the best of taste. The heavy cornice which protects the lowest uncovered tier of external, so far not yet satisfactorily explained reliefs, carries the niches for the statues already mentioned. The shape of these niches and of the temples delineated in the scenery of the carved tales and legends, here as at Prambanan, Toompang, etc., afford us material assistance in determining after what model _chandis_, long fallen into ruin, were built; they are especially helpful in explaining the often puzzling arrangement of the superstructures, hardly one being found, even among those best preserved, with the roof still intact. Leaving archaeological problems alone, modern architects and decorators can further derive a good deal of profit from a study of the gradation observed in the downward radiation of both the architectural and decorative conceit centred in the crowning dagob, or, rather, the upward convergence in a nobly devised distribution of spaces connected and entwined by cunning ornament, the luxuriant fantasy of the sculptor being unerringly controlled by the staid design of the builder. A fervent imagination may revel in miles of bas-reliefs without surfeit, the salutary restraint of a sober outline and a proportional disposition of the component parts being such that the eye never gets tired or the faculty of perception cloyed.

Fergusson, pointing to the identity of workmen and workmanship in the sculpture and details of ornamentation at the Boro Budoor and at Ajunta (cave 26), Nassick (cave 17), the later caves at Salsette, Kondoty, Montpezir and other places in that neighbourhood, computes that at the former the decoration extends to nearly 5000 feet, almost an English mile, and, as there are sculptures on both faces, we have nearly 10,000 lineal feet of reliefs. They numbered 2141 in all, counting what is damaged and altogether lost, but omitting the decoration of the ornamental niches: on the lowest wall 408 in the upper and 160 in the lower tier outside, 568 inside; on the second wall, 240 outside and 192 inside; on the third wall, 108 outside and 165 inside; on the fourth wall, 88 outside and 140 inside; on the fifth wall, 72 inside. Regarding their noble qualities of style and decorative value as a component of the general project, the opinion of a writer in the _Quarterly Review_[153] may be quoted, who discusses the Boro Budoor’s straight lines, its untroubled spaces of flat stone, its mouldings of classic simplicity, its intricate and elaborate bands of ornament, held in place by the nice choice of relief, being low and unaccented, in opposition to the deep cutting and full modelling of the panels they surround; and in these panels, he continues, in spite of the full roundness of the modelling and the wealth of ornamental detail, the unity is maintained by a fine sense of rhythm and discreet massing and spacing. The upper tier of carvings on the inner wall of the first gallery, haut-reliefs in contradistinction to the rest, represents the life of the Buddha from his birth until his death and is the best preserved. Many of the others have suffered so badly that they baffle explanation; taken on the whole, they treat of traditional occurrences in connection with the Buddha himself or his predecessors, of gatherings under bo-trees, pilgrimages to reliquaries, alms-giving, exhortations to observe the law, admonitions to virtue: abstinence, tolerance and charity. Animal fables are interwoven with _jataka_-tales, _i.e._ narratives concerning the Buddha before he appeared as the perfect man, tracing his path to holiness in his adventures as a hare, a fish, a quail, a swan, a deer, the king of monkeys, an elephant, a bull, a wood-pecker, a tortoise, the horse Balaha, every metamorphosis serving to illustrate his zeal to sacrifice himself for his fellow-creatures and, incidentally, stimulating the kindness we owe to our poor relations without the power of speech. Professor Speyer’s translation of legends collected in the _Jatakamala_ (wreath of _jatakas_) enables us to recognise in a good many of the reliefs of the Boro Budoor the successive stages of the Buddha on the road to supreme excellence, the figuration of his progress being largely influenced by ancient Hindu folk-lore.

If Ruskin compared St. Mark’s at Venice so aptly with a vast illuminated missal, bound with alabaster instead of parchment, studded with porphyry pillars instead of jewels, and written within and without in letters of enamel and gold, in the Boro Budoor, a sacred book of volcanic stone, the life of the Buddha, before and after he became a son of man and man’s saviour, lies opened before us: the flowery earth and the shining heaven are its binding; Surya, the sun himself, gilds and enamels the letters, the images which, in their sculptured frame, not too deeply cut and not too rich for a setting, but precisely adequate, tell to all creatures the story of wisdom and elevation of spirit. The illustration of the _Lalita Vistara_ occupies, as already mentioned, the upper tier of the inner wall of the first open gallery. Walking round in the proper direction, _i.e._ keeping the dagob to the right while moving with the sun, we have first a few introductory scenes, leading up to the Buddha’s advent and preparing us for the mystic teachings of an imagery which expands simply and naturally between the flowing lines of harmonious ornament and speaks to the heart as does the sound of running water or the soughing of the wind in the tree-tops. Immediately after his birth, rising from the white lotus-flower which has sprung from the earth at the place touched by his feet, Siddhartha, in token of his power over the several worlds, paces seven steps to each of the cardinal points and to the abode of sin, announcing his mission: I shall conquer the Prince of Darkness and the army of the Prince of Darkness; to save those plunged into hell, I shall cause rain to descend from the huge cloud of the law and they will be filled with joy and happiness. He grows and marries and leaves his father’s palace, moved by the misery of the lowly and lost, to gather knowledge as Sakyamuni, until, compassing all wisdom, he becomes impersonated truth and the great renunciation takes place. The closing scene refers to his death, to the adoration of the mortal remains of the immortal Tathagata, symbolising his course among men not as a succession of past acts but as a constant one to be imitated by whoso desires the reward. Increasing in excellence of design and execution the nearer we approach the Holy of Holies, the touching tale of a life of sacrifice is told with that straightforward simplicity of which only the consummate artist possesses the secret. All appears so human and real, so inspiringly animated by the extreme of vital motion, to use an oriental expression, the individuality of the figures being always preserved in minutest personal detail without the least affectation. Plastic triumphs, emphasising the lessons of the sacred books, bring up unto us the people of _jaman buda_, heroes tall and strong as palm-trees, virgins lithe and slender as bambu-stems, with drooping eyes, shrinking from a too inquisitive gaze, with limbs modelled as if they would tremble under the pressure of a caressing hand.

The statues, watching the ascent of the seeker of purification, second the impulse received from the reliefs by their tranquil composure, that is in so far as they remained at their stations, for their ranks are sadly thinned. Aspiring to the holiness figured in the images of the higher terraces, to the priceless boon of the Nirvana as final blessing, the Dhyani Buddhas, sunk in meditation, girding themselves with virtue, longing for the ecstasies vouchsafed to the Adi-Buddha’s meditation, reflect the five salient features of his understanding, as indicated by their gestures. Divided into three or twice three groups, according to the position of their hands, and in intimate relationship with their Bodhisatvas, Vajrochana, Akshobhya and Ratnasambhava are supposed to have swayed, during thousands of years, the three worlds which successively disappeared, as Amitabha, whose Bodhisatva is Padmapani, sways since twenty-four centuries the present world, in closest spiritual union with the historical Buddha, to be succeeded by Amoghasiddha, whose Bodhisatva is Vishvapani, the ultimate Buddha, the Buddha of universal love. Facing the four cardinal points and the zenith, they sit with crossed legs,[154] clothed in a thin robe which leaves the right shoulder and arm bare, and have the distinctive protuberance of the skull, generally also the _oorna_, the symbol of light, be it then produced by the sun or by lightning. A sixth Buddha, represented by the statues of the fifth and highest wall, is supposed to refer to a power which dominates the other five, swaying in last resort the destinies of all worlds without exception; but this theory still needs confirmation. The statues of the circular terraces stood, or rather sat, in bell-shaped _chaityas_, four to five feet high, capped with tapering key-stones which carry conical pinnacles--no _lingas_, though this oft recurring motive of Hindu decoration may have suggested the idea. These _chaityas_, 72 in number[155] and for the greater part in ruin, shattered shells of sanctity, were closed all round and the images inside, without aureoles, like the Buddhas lower down, only visible through openings in the form of lozenges. Their peculiar contour has led to the conjecture that they were constructed after the holy _padma_ or lotus-flower, a hypothesis to which their _padmasana_-like bases and the numerous peepholes, which might figurate empty seed-lobes, lend some colour. Of the 72 Buddhas they protected, eighteen are wholly lost and no more than ten escaped grievous hurt.

Winding our way upward, passing through the galleries whose profound silence, imbued with the intensely religious spirit radiating from their sculptured walls, becomes more and more eloquent; circling the terraces where the attitude of ecstatic elation of the world’s pre-eminently venerable ones in their _chaityas_ exalts the mind in tremulous expectation, we arrive at the dagob, the shrine of shrines, the temple’s coronet, glittering in the bright glow of day. This is the reliquary proper, the centre into which the holiness of the hallowed building converges. It rises, similar to the smaller cupolas, but perpendicular to a height of several feet, from a substructure in the guise of a lotus cushion; it was also closed round about, without any aperture so far as can be concluded from its present state, for a portion of it has tumbled down and the base of the crowning pinnacle, reached by ill-matched, rickety steps, a recent, outrageously discordant addition, serves for a bench, the whole, about 25 feet above the topmost terrace, having been transformed into a crude belvedere, enabling visitors to enjoy the magnificent view. The interior space seems originally to have been divided into an upper and a lower chamber; there is nothing deserving mention in the matter of decoration save an inscription to remind posterity of the late King of Siam’s visit in the disastrous year 1896--a delicious memorial, at the same time, of official vandalism and servility. The golden letters affect one unpleasantly in the spoliated sanctum, whose ruinous condition dates from a previous call, some sixty or seventy years ago, permitted if not encouraged by previous authorities, when looting pseudo-archaeologists broke into it and carried off the relic, which consisted, assuming the credibility of local reports regarding their disappointment, in a small quantity of ashy substance, enclosed in a metal urn with lid; furthermore in a small image of metal and a few coins. The large statue they unearthed too, would have impeded the movements of the marauders on their return voyage and so it remained in place, half hidden in the hole they had dug, undisturbed, for the same reason, by subsequent collectors. Left unfinished by its sculptor, designedly or not,[156] resembling in the position of its hands the Dhyani Buddhas which face the East, does it personify the Adi-Buddha, a purely abstract entity, a metaphysical conception hitherto defying even symbolic utterance? The learned and especially the quasi-learned never lacked weighty arguments pro or contra, and, without prejudice to all they proved and disproved,[157] it does not appear improbable that the lively imagination of the Javanese artist aimed at a tangible expression of him who ran his course as the spirit and source of the Buddhist conception of happiness, resuscitated from his ashes, dominating East and West, North and South, the blissful abode of those progressing in self-negation and the infernal regions of prolonged earthly existence, by the strength of the divine rays proceeding from the _oorna_, illumining the path trodden by the virtuous toward annihilation, terrifying the children of darkness, dwellers in passion and sin, pervading all creation with his saintliness, the one of the Paranirvana whose essence flowers in the beauty of the Boro Budoor. And the Moslim native worships him as the god of his ancestors, caught in stone; smears him with _boreh_ and performs acts of sacrifice before him in spite of the Book fulminating against idolaters and of the almost contemptuous familiarity intimated by the otherwise very appropriate nickname bestowed on this heterodox deity, namely _recho belèq_, which means “statue in the mud”.

The work of restoration, started with excavations and the removal of heaps of accumulated debris, has led to important discoveries, also in relation to the dagob. Among shattered _naga_-gargoyles, antefixes, carved detail of every description, fragments have been found of a triple _payoong_, an ornament in the form of a sunshade which capped it; of a statuette supposed to have adorned its second storey, the upper compartment of the cella. To quote from Major van Erp’s last published report,[158] the excavations shed new light on the design of some minor parts of the building, the decoration, _e.g._, of the lowest three staircases on each of the four sides; notwithstanding the existing drawings, the _kala-makara_ motive seems to have entered into the ornament of the entrance gate in the principal outer wall; the design of the balustrade which enclosed the platform of the temple and disappeared altogether, has been determined and a portion of it will be rebuilt to show how things must have looked; slabs belonging to the different series of bas-reliefs, mostly of the _jataka_ variety, have been unearthed or detected in neighbouring _kampongs_. Especial care is taken to retrieve those missing from the upper tier in the first gallery: if the recovered reliefs are not always complete, the recognisable principal figure explains generally the idea which the sculptor intended to convey, with sufficient clearness to be grasped by the trained archaeologist. And as to the rest of the detached pieces of architectural value, dug up or otherwise revealed to the searching eye, the symmetric unity of the Boro Budoor is such that place and position of each component part, however subordinate in the mighty fabric, are easily ascertained. Every new find discloses new excellence, so far undreamt of, in the constructive ability of the master-builder whose illuminated brain conceived the idea of this temple wherein he wrote the history of a religion,

_Whose goodly workmanship far past all other, That ever were on earth, all were they set together._

His name is unknown, though native fancy, descrying his likeness in the profile of the Minoreh mountains, a fine conceit worthy of his genius, has baptised him Kiahi Guna Darma. Another tradition calls him Kiahi Oondagi and makes him chisel the statue which, up to the time of the late King of Siam’s visit in 1896, stood near the _pasangrahan_, facing a damaged Amitabha and seemingly heartening the diminishing ranks of the lions mounting guard. It had been brought thither from a place known as Topog, about a mile distant, and was certainly a portrait-statue, beautifully cut and with its extraordinarily clever features a rare work of art. The story goes that, like Busketus, the architect (with Rainaldus) of the Duomo at Pisa, his dearest wish was to have his remains carried to rest under the stones of the edifice he had raised to the honour of the unseen; that, baffled in his hopes and reincarnated after his death because of some venial offence which made him fail in attaining the Nirvana too, he fashioned this effigy to be set up at the entrance of his _magnum opus_, anticipating an idea of the equally nameless artist who put the Byzantine stamp on San Marco in Venice. It is an additional proof of the late King Chulalongkorn’s discrimination in favour of the very best that, making the permitted choice, his Majesty included Kiahi Oondagi, but O! the official cringing and the little piety shown to the memory of the illustrious labourer who wrought this wonderful monument.

On the hillock of Topog, the _deva agoong’s_ primitive home, two wash-basins in the form of _yonis_, one of them of colossal dimensions and resting on a crouched figure, testify to the worship of Siva’s _sakti_, the female principle of life personified in the Mahadeva’s Devi. Hindu motives in the ornament of the Boro Budoor avouch syncretism having influenced the highest expression of Buddhism itself: there is a four-armed image with _padmasana_ and _prabha_, which, carrying a Buddha in its _makuta_, may hint at Vishnu’s ninth _avatar_; there is a four-armed figure seated on a throne supported by Siva’s _vahana_, the bull; there is a goddess crowned with five _trishulas_; etc. All this illustrates again native tolerance in matters of religion as in other respects, a result of the ancient habit of the Javanese in particular, to meet widely different races and civilisations half-way, which has preserved them from the narrow-mindedness consequent on isolation, as observed by a scholar who knows them well and whose study of special subjects has in nowise impaired his breadth of vision.[159] The modification of this easy-going temperament in contact with western greed, offers abundant food for thought when we return to the cool cave of refuge from passion where the _recho belèq_ symbolises deep contemplation and meditation terminating in absorption of self by participation of the Spirit of the Universe, under the gaudy memorial tablet, _Koning van Siam: 1896_, which, in its glaring incongruity, symbolises the inverted process.[160] The feeling of annoyance it produces, soon passes when the mind begins to expand with admiration of the scene of calm splendour beheld from the dagob containing the pollen of the lotus of the law. The hues and harmonies of evening dispose to a quietude nowhere else experienced or enjoyed in that measure. The only sound heard is a faint humming of insects circling the pinnacles of the _chaityas_ which divide the panorama of the plain below into views of separate interest and beauty, bounded by the graceful outline of the terraces and the distant hills. Ricefields and palmgroves stretch as far as the eye can reach, with villages between, sheltered by their orchards, earth’s tapestry, embroidered in all gradations of green from that of the sprouting _bibit padi_ of the young plantations to that of the thick foliage of centenarian _kanaris_. The shadow of the temple, kissing the drowsy eyelids of the Kadu, lengthens towards the Merapi over whose crater, gilt by the setting sun, hangs a cloud of dark smoke which drifts slowly in the direction of the Merbabu, while the Soombing, to the northeast, looks tranquilly on. The darkness, ushered by the smoke of the ill-tempered old fire-mountain, mingling with the pink and purple of the western sky, spreads over the land, envelops forests and gardens in gray, hushing all that breathes to sleep. One parting smile of the sun’s gladness and night descends in her sable robes. Nothing stirs; the toils of day are forgotten in wholesome repose; it is the hour of Amitabha, ruler of the region of sunset and spiritual father of the present world’s ruler, the one whose hands rest in his lap after the completion of a laborious task. Morning will come and in time the creation of a new world, the world of loving-kindness, Vishvapani’s, the Metteya Buddha’s own--in time, long time! A _gardu_[161] strikes seven; another answers immediately with eight strokes on the _beloq_;[161] far away no more than six respond,--what is time to the native! Silence reigns again, silence emphasised by the high-pitched notes of a _suling_,[162] quavering indistinctly as the evening breeze speeds the lover’s complaint or refuses its aid. A noise of revelry in the _pasangrahan_ distracts the attention from this tuneful courtship; the visionary beings that were taking life from the germ of thought hidden in its shrine, petrify into mute statues or vanish altogether: the spell of the Boro Budoor is broken.

FOOTNOTES:

[143] Such is the name given to a stretch of beach, not far from Tanjoong Priok, the harbour of Batavia, much resorted to, for bathing and advertisement, by that city’s frail sisterhood, and Batavians will appreciate the young naval officer’s _bon mot_ better than did his aunt, a provincial spinster, when at length she fathomed it.

[144] A description, dated October 12, 1858, informs us that the piece of ivory, supposed to have garnished the jaw of Gautama, is about the size of the little finger, of a rich yellow colour, slightly curved in the middle and tapering. The thickest end, taken for the crown, has a hole into which a pin can be introduced; the thinnest end, taken for the root, looks as if worn away or tampered with to distribute fragments of the relic.

[145] Reports and Communications of the Dutch Royal Academy, 1895.

[146] According to another explanation these incompleted pieces of sculpture, found lying about, were rejected in the building because they did not come up to the architect’s requirements.

[147] _The Ruin of the Boro Budoor or Vandalism_, signed GOENA DARMA. It is no indiscretion, I believe, to reveal behind this significant pseudonym Father P. J. HOEVENAARS, of whose sagacious observations I shall avail myself repeatedly in the following account of the temple’s history.

[148] Invention being stimulated by quasi-historical novels like GRAMBERG’S _Mojopahit_.

[149] Vide _De Java-Oorlog_, commenced by Captain P. J. F. LOUW, continued by Captain E. S. DE KLERCK and published under the auspices of the _Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences_, vols. i. and ii.

[150] This holds good for western as well as eastern lands and, whether true or false, the story of Napoleon’s dragoons converting the refectorium of Santa Maria delle Grazie at Milan into a stable and adjusting their horses’ mangers against da Vinci’s _Cena_, expresses very well what cavalry on the warpath are capable of.

[151] The form of the characters, etc., according to Professor KERN, points to about the year 800 Saka (A.D. 878).

[152] See also the _Westminster Review_ of May and _The Antiquary_ of August, 1912.

[153] ROGER FRY on _Oriental Art_, January, 1910.

[154] In the position called _silo_ by the natives, but with the body straight, not bent forward.

[155] The lowest circular terrace has or ought to have 32, the second or middle one 24, the highest and last 16 of them.

[156] M. A. FOUCHER points out in the _Bulletin de l’Ecole Française d’Extrême Orient_, iii., that the Chinese pilgrim Hiuen Tsiang found another unfinished statue in the Mahabodhi temple near the Bo-tree of Enlightenment, a statue which, according to the description, represented the Buddha in the same position, his left hand resting in his lap, his right hand hanging down, etc.

[157] The literature concerning this statue, says GOENA DARMA in the _Javapost_ of December 5, 1903, is extensive and rich in curious conjectures but poor as to scientific value.

[158] Proceedings of the _Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences_, January 11, 1910.

[159] Professor Dr. C. SNOUCK HURGRONJE, _Nederland en de Islām_.

[160] Since this was written, the information reached me that the _recho belèq_ has been taken out of its hole to give it a place somewhere in the temple grounds where it will be open to inspection, which the reconstruction of the dagob would have made impossible if left in its original station. The sacrilege may be condoned to a certain extent if it implies the disappearance of the tablet intended to keep alive the memory of the disastrous royal visit.

The illustration opposite page 280 shows the upper terraces and the dagob after their restoration: the pinnacle of the dagob having been reconstructed with its crowning ornament, this was afterwards taken away because of some uncertainty as to its original arrangement.

[161] _Gardus_ are guard-houses erected for the accommodation of the men who take their turn in watching the roads at night; near the entrance of each hangs the _beloq_ (block), a piece of wood which, being hollow, is beaten with a stick to proclaim the hour or to signal fire, amok, the appearance of _kechus_ (armed thieves), etc.

[162] The Javanese reed-pipe.