Hinduism and Buddhism, An Historical Sketch, Vol. 3

by Charles Eliot

6

No account of Cambojan religion would be complete without some reference to the splendid monuments in which it found expression and which still remain in a great measure intact. The colonists who established themselves in these regions brought with them the Dravidian taste for great buildings, but either their travels enlarged their artistic powers or they modified the Indian style by assimilating successfully some architectural features found in their new home. What pre-Indian architecture there may have been among the Khmers we do not know, but the fact that the earliest known monuments are Hindu makes it improbable that stone buildings on a large scale existed before their arrival. The feature which most clearly distinguishes Cambojan from Indian architecture is its pyramidal structure. India has stupas and gopurams of pyramidal appearance but still Hindu temples of the normal type, both in the north and south, consist of a number of buildings erected on the same level. In Camboja on the contrary many buildings, such as Ta-Keo, Ba-phuong and the Phimeanakas, are shrines on the top of pyramids, which consist of three storeys or large steps, ascended by flights of relatively small steps. In other buildings, notably Angkor Wat, the pyramidal form is obscured by the slight elevation of the storeys compared with their breadth and by the elaboration of the colonnades and other edifices, which they bear. But still the general plan is that of a series of courts each rising within and above the last and this gradual rise, by which the pilgrim is led, not only through colonnade after colonnade, but up flight after flight of stairs, each leading to something higher but invisible from the base, imparts to Cambojan temples a sublimity and aspiring grandeur which is absent from the mysterious halls of Dravidian shrines.

One might almost suppose that the Cambojan architects had deliberately set themselves to rectify the chief faults of Indian architecture. One of these is the profusion of external ornament in high relief which by its very multiplicity ceases to produce any effect proportionate to its elaboration, with the result that the general view is disappointing and majestic outlines are wanting. In Cambojan buildings on the contrary the general effect is not sacrificed to detail: the artists knew how to make air and space give dignity to their work. Another peculiar defect of many Dravidian buildings is that they were gradually erected round some ancient and originally humble shrine with the unfortunate result that the outermost courts and gateways are the most magnificent and that progress to the holy of holies is a series of artistic disappointments. But at Angkor Wat this fault is carefully avoided. The long paved road which starts from the first gateway isolates the great central mass of buildings without dwarfing it and even in the last court, when one looks up the vast staircases leading to the five towers which crown the pyramid, all that has led up to the central shrine seems, as it should, merely an introduction.

The solidity of Cambojan architecture is connected with the prevalence of inundations. With such dangers it was of primary importance to have a massive substructure which could not be washed away and the style which was necessary in building a firm stone platform inspired the rest of the work. Some unfinished temples reveal the interesting fact that they were erected first as piles of plain masonry. Then came the decorator and carved the stones as they stood in their places, so that instead of carving separate blocks he was able to contemplate his design as a whole and to spread it over many stones. Hence most Cambojan buildings have a peculiar air of unity. They have not had ornaments affixed to them but have grown into an ornamental whole. Yet if an unfavourable criticism is to be made on these edifices—especially Angkor Wat—it is that the sculptures are wanting in meaning and importance. They cannot be compared to the reliefs of Boroboedoer, a veritable catechism in stone where every clause teaches the believer something new, or even to the piles of figures in Dravidian temples which, though of small artistic merit, seem to represent the whirl of the world with all its men and monsters, struggling from life into death and back to life again. The reliefs in the great corridors of Angkor are purely decorative. The artist justly felt that so long a stretch of plain stone would be wearisome, and as decoration, his work is successful. Looking outwards the eye is satisfied with such variety as the trees and houses in the temple courts afford: looking inwards it finds similar variety in the warriors and deities portrayed on the walls. Some of the scenes have an historical interest, but the attempt to follow the battles of the Ramayana or the Churning of the Sea soon becomes a tedious task, for there is little individuality or inspiration in the figures.

This want of any obvious correspondence between the decoration and cult of the Cambojan temples often makes it difficult to say to what deities they were dedicated. The Bayon, or Śivâśrama, was presumably a linga temple, yet the conjecture is not confirmed as one would expect by any indubitable evidence in the decoration or arrangements. In its general plan the building seems more Indian than others and, like the temple of Jagannâtha at Puri, consists of three successive chambers, each surmounted by a tower. The most remarkable feature in the decoration is the repetition of the four-headed figure at the top of every tower, a striking and effective motive, which is also found above the gates of the town. Chou Ta-kuan says that there were golden statues of Buddhas at the entrance to the Bayon. It is impossible to say whether this statement is accurate or not. He may have simply made a mistake, but it is equally possible that the fusion of the two creeds may have ended in images of the Buddha being placed outside the shrine of the linga.

Strange as it may seem, there is no clear evidence as to the character of the worship performed in Camboja's greatest temple, Angkor Wat. Since the prince who commenced it was known by the posthumous title of Paramavishṇuloka, we may presume that he intended to dedicate it to Vishṇu and some of the sculptures appear to represent Vishṇu slaying a demon. But it was not finished until after his death and his intentions may not have been respected by his successors. An authoritative statement[324] warns us that it is not safe to say more about the date of Angkor Wat than that its extreme limits are 1050 and 1170. Jayavarman VII (who came to the throne at about this latter date) was a Buddhist, and may possibly have used the great temple for his own worship. The sculptures are hardly Brahmanic in the theological sense, and those which represent the pleasures of paradise and the pains of hell recall Buddhist delineations of the same theme[325]. The four images of the Buddha which are now found in the central tower are modern and all who have seen them will, I think, agree that the figure of the great teacher which seems so appropriate in the neighbouring monasteries is strangely out of place in this aerial shrine. But what the designer of the building intended to place there remains a mystery. Perhaps an empty throne such as is seen in the temples of Annam and Bali would have been the best symbol[326].

Though the monuments of Camboja are well preserved the grey and massive severity which marks them at present is probably very different from the appearance that they wore when used for worship. From Chou Ta-kuan and other sources[327] we gather that the towers and porches were gilded, the bas-reliefs and perhaps the whole surface of the walls were painted, and the building was ornamented with flags. Music and dances were performed in the courtyards and, as in many Indian temples, the intention was to create a scene which by its animation and brilliancy might amuse the deity and rival the pleasures of paradise.

It is remarkable that ancient Camboja which has left us so many monuments, produced no books[328]. Though the inscriptions and Chou Ta-kuan testify to the knowledge of literature (especially religious), both Brahmanic and Buddhist, diffused among the upper classes, no original works or even adaptations of Indian originals have come down to us. The length and ambitious character of many inscriptions give an idea of what the Cambojans could do in the way of writing, but the result is disappointing. These poems in stone show a knowledge of Sanskrit, of Indian poetry and theology, which is surprising if we consider how far from India they were composed, but they are almost without exception artificial, frigid and devoid of vigour or inspiration.