Here the party of Hindoo priests, drummers, and fakeers sat down to rest, while we went on a short distance and reached the entrance to the famous caves of Elephanta. The principal cave is of great extent, excavated out of the solid rock; the colossal columns of the portico seem to hold up the mountain above them. On either side of the entrance great creepers come down in heavy masses over the mountain. Rows and rows of columns handsomely ornamented appear within, growing beautifully less in the distance and vanishing amid gloomy shadows and a thousand fantastic shapes. The gateway or porch is still in excellent preservation; it leads directly through the heart of the mountain. The different shrines, which contain objects of Hindoo worship, are placed on each side. In the centre there is seen by the light of torches a majestic altar of stone, now in a state of decay, supporting a gigantic bust of three noble heads, two of which are in profile. The Hindoo Trinity, Maha Dèo, the Great God, commonly called Brahm, the Hindoo Creator, occupies the centre in full relief. The eyes are half closed, the expression serene and tranquil. It seems to be carved from a living model, and is a perfect Oriental ideal of masculine beauty, with the delicate and refined outline of the features and the deep contemplation expressed in those large downcast eyes. The forehead is crowned with a lofty diadem exquisitely carved, not unlike the mitres worn by the bishops of the Roman Church; the right arm, which is very much broken, once grasped the head of a cobra da capello, which, our pundit explained to us, here typifies in its sublimest sense the masculine or creative energy of the world.
Siva, to whom this cavern temple is said to be dedicated, and who is seen in another compartment with his consort Parvati, with a chaplet of skulls round his neck, eight-handed, and bearing the cobra, and whose name in Sanskrit signifies either happiness or pleasure, is seen in profile on the right. In a hand outstretched from the altar he also grasps a cobra, but with its hood extended wide. In his hand the character of the symbol is transformed with the god into that of the avenger or destroyer. The god's mouth is distorted with grimaces, and he puts out the tip of his tongue, by which, according to our pundit and guide, he mocks at the sensualist, and says as plainly as our Bible, "The wages of sin is death."
On the left side of Maha Dèo is Vishnu, in the grand character of preserver; the head is very noble and the face of no common beauty; it wears a tender and smiling expression. He no longer holds the symbol at once of masculine creative energy and of sensuality, but a peculiar oblong lotos-shaped cup or flower, the higher and purer symbol of maternity. Our pundit gave this wonderful bit of sculpture, which reaches from the low altar to the ceiling of the temple, the name of "Maha Trimourtri, the Great Three-in-One." By some it is called Bhava Natria, "Love threefold." Whatever else it may be called, it certainly makes a wonderful impression seen high above from the principal aisle, guarded on all sides by gigantic and well-proportioned caryatides. The shape of the largest cave is cruciform and resembles the plan of an ancient basilica.
The massiveness and strength of the pillars, which find their deep foundations in the earth below, supporting the elephant-shaped mountain above, is rendered more and more striking by the thousand and one scenes of Hindoo, and particularly Saivic,[8] mythology, in part solemn and majestic, and in part grotesque and absurd, that fill every part of the walls; gods and goddesses, heroes and monsters, almost stand out of the rocks. Here are carved strong and clear the story of the babe Krishna and the slaughter of the infants by his uncle Cansa. Everywhere are curious and venerable specimens of sculpture, which, though shamefully mutilated in parts, still show so high an advance in art, and possess so indescribable an aspect of animated life, that one half expects the stone figures to move or to speak. A great number of the pillars have been undermined by the accumulation of water in the cavern temple; the capitals of some and parts of the shafts of others remain suspended from the ceiling like huge stalactites. Enormous creepers and trees have forced themselves through certain cracks and crevices in the mountain, and the whole scene is very wild and pagan; which enhances the beauty and mysterious appearance of the caves.
On going through a passage guarded by stone lions the pundit took a little tin box out of his pocket, opened it, and scattered some odoriferous snuff on the head of the lions, and then took a little pinch himself. His explanation was, that he had taken cold, and snuff was his remedy for it. "But," said I, "the stone lions haven't taken cold too?"—"Oh, that," said he, "was a propitiatory offering, lest I should sneeze in their sacred presence."
As we went out of the great stone porch the declining sun sent a long line of light through the aisle, the wind blew softly, and the island stretched away green and beautiful, surrounded with the sea all a-glitter with the rosy hues of the setting sun. In many places we noticed traces of color, but everywhere are to be seen the ruthless mutilations this cave has suffered both from the conquering Mohammedan and Portuguese soldiers; most of the colossal statues are defaced and broken, the arms and limbs of innumerable figures are prostrate. Long lines of pictured story and inscriptions are effaced, but there are still standing rows and rows of gods and goddesses, their heads crowned with garlands. These figures, although much defaced, still show that the artist carved some of the female forms with only one breast, like the famed Amazons of Greek story. The temple or city of purification was desecrated centuries ago, and it is now deserted, save for an annual fair and occasional visits from Brahmans and fakeers; it can boast of none of the splendors of its palmy days.
About fifteen miles from "Gorabunder," on the mainland, lies Bassein—or, as it was anciently called, Vassai—once a proud city and the chief seat of the early Portuguese settlers in this part of India. But for nearly three-quarters of a century it has ceased to be inhabited. The city is of considerable size, and surrounded by a regular fortification of rampart and bastions. It is kept locked up under a small body of soldiers and an English conductor of ordnance.
By permission obtained from the authorities at Bombay we spent a very interesting day wandering over this deserted city, its ruined towers, cloisters, convents, monasteries, and churches, that once belonged to the Jesuits, which are here crumbling away unheard of and unnoticed. The only building in good repair is a small pagoda raised over a Mahratta saint amid a display of the most melancholy of ruined houses, churches, and colleges. In the vast jungle-covered cemetery of the dead Portuguese are the tombs of the great Don Lorenço and the famous Albuquerque. In one of the largest of the churches there is a monument to a certain lady, Donna Maria de Souza, of the date of 1606.