Márttand.
Of all the existing remains of Kashmirian grandeur, the most striking in size and situation is the noble ruin of Márttand.
This majestic temple stands at the northern end of the elevated table-land of “Matan,” about three miles to the eastward of Islámabád.
This is undoubtedly the finest position in Kashmír. The temple itself is not now (1848) more than forty feet in height, but its solid walls and bold outlines towering [[356]]over the fluted pillars of the surrounding colonnade give it a most imposing appearance.
There are no petty confused details; but all are distinct and massive, and most admirably suited to the general character of the building.
Many vain speculations have been hazarded regarding the date of the erection of this temple and the worship to which it was appropriated.
It is usually called the “House of the Pandús” by the Brahmins, and by the people “Mattan.”
The true appellation appears to be preserved in the latter, Matan being only a corruption of the Sanscrit Márttand मार्त्तण्ड, or the sun, to which the temple was dedicated.
The true date of the erection of this temple—the wonder of Kashmír—is a disputed point of chronology; but the period of its foundation can be determined within the limits of one century, or between A.D. 370 and 500.
The mass of building now known by the name of Matan, or Márttand, consists of one lofty central edifice, with a small detached wing on each side of the entrance, the whole standing on a large quadrangle surrounded by a colonnade of fluted pillars, with intervening trefoil-headed recesses. The central building is sixty-three feet in length, by thirty-six in width.
As the main building is at present entirely uncovered, the original form of the roof can only be determined by a reference to other temples, and to the general form and character of the various parts of the Márttand temple itself.
The angle of the roof in the Temple of Pándrethán, and in other instances, is obtained by making the sides of the pyramid which forms it parallel to the sides of the [[357]]doorway pediment, and in restoring the Temples of Patrun and Márttand I have followed the same rule.
The height of the Pándrethán temple—of the cloistered recesses, porch pediments, and niches of Márttand itself—were all just double their respective widths. This agreement in the relative proportions of my restored roof of Márttand with those deduced from other examples, is a presumptive proof of the correctness of my restoration. The entrance-chamber and the wings I suppose to have been also covered by similar pyramidal roofs. There would thus have been four distinct pyramids, of which that over the inner chamber must have been the loftiest, the height of its pinnacle above the ground being about seventy-five feet.
The interior must have been as imposing as the exterior. On ascending the flight of steps—now covered by ruins—the votary of the sun entered a highly-decorated chamber, with a doorway on each side covered by a pediment, with a trefoil-headed niche containing a bust of the Hindú triad, and on the flanks of the main entrance, as well as on those of the side doorways, were pointed and trefoil niches, each of which held a statue of a Hindú divinity.
The interior decorations of the roof can only be conjecturally determined, as I was unable to discover any ornamented stones that could with certainty be assigned to it. Baron Hugel doubts that Márttand ever had a roof; but, as the walls of the temple are still standing, the numerous heaps of large stones that are scattered about on all sides can only have belonged to the roof.
I can almost fancy that the erection of this sun-temple was suggested by the magnificent sunny prospect which its position commands. It overlooks the finest view in Kashmír, and perhaps in the known world, Beneath it [[358]]lies the paradise of the East, with its sacred streams and cedarn glens, its brown orchards and green fields, surrounded on all sides by vast snowy mountains, whose lofty peaks seem to smile upon the beautiful valley below. The vast extent of the scene makes it sublime; for this magnificent view of Kashmír is no petty peep into a half-mile glen, but the full display of a valley sixty miles in breadth and upwards of a hundred miles in length, the whole of which lies beneath “the ken of the wonderful Márttand.”
The principal buildings that still exist in Kashmír are entirely composed of a blue limestone, which is capable of taking the highest polish—a property to which I mainly attribute the beautiful state of preservation in which some of them at present exist.
Even at first sight one is immediately struck by the strong resemblance which the Kashmirian colonnades bear to the classic peristyles of Greece. Even the temples themselves, with their porches and pediments, remind one more of Greece than of India; and it is difficult to believe that a style of architecture which differs so much from all Indian examples, and which has so much in common with those of Greece, could have been indebted to chance alone for this striking resemblance.
One great similarity between the Kashmirian architecture and that of the various Greek orders is its stereotyped style, which, during the long flourishing period of several centuries, remained unchanged. In this respect it is so widely different from the ever-varying forms and plastic vagaries of the Hindú architecture that it is impossible to conceive their evolution from a common origin.
I feel convinced myself that several of the Kashmirian forms, and many of the details, were borrowed from the temples of the Kabúlian Greeks, while the arrangements [[359]]of the interior and the relative proportions of the different parts were of Hindú origin. Such, in fact, must necessarily have been the case with imitations by Indian workmen, which would naturally have been engrafted upon the indigenous architecture. The general arrangements would still remain Indian, while many of the details, and even some of the larger forms, might be of foreign origin.
As a whole, I think that the Kashmirian architecture, with its noble fluted pillars, its vast colonnades, its lofty pediments, and its elegant trefoiled arches, is fully entitled to be classed as a distinct style. I have therefore ventured to call it the Arian order—a name to which it has a double right; first, because it was the style of the Aryas, or Arians, of Kashmír; and, secondly, because its intercolumniations are always of four diameters—an interval which the Greeks called Araiostyle.